Coming Back as We Are
by headcannon
Summary: RP-based Pezberry AU co-written with Sunshine. Pop star Santana Lopez struggles to keep her private life (especially her daughter) out of the public eye. When scandal shakes her world, she takes refuge on a Broadway stage and finds herself with the chance to rekindle a friendship with her childhood friend and new-costar, Rachel Berry.
1. Chapter 1

Santana picks up the pot of freshly made coffee and pours it into her favourite travel mug. She sighs tiredly when she almost misses the cup and a few drops splash onto the counter top.

With guest spots on talk shows to promote the album she released in February and a tour that's kept her bouncing from city to city for four months, it's been a busy year for Santana. She's glad, in bittersweet kind of way, that tonight is the last show of the tour. She loves performing and interacting with her fans; but, touring has meant late nights and busy days. It's meant spending less time with her almost four-year-old daughter. And as much as she loves her music and performing, she would give it all up for her little girl.

"Maya, d'you have your shoes on..?" she asks after putting the coffee pot back and making sure the lid is securely on her cup. As she grabs a dish cloth to wipe away the spilled coffee she listens for an answer.

From down the hall, a clear voice calls back, "Yes, Mama! I have two! One and two!"

Santana takes a moment to think about the last time she let her daughter put on her shoes without help and she smiles softly to herself. "Are they the same colour?" She makes her way over to the couch to pick up her bag and rest it on her arm, coffee cup in hand.

"Um," Maya draws out her answer as she stares at her feet. "Yes? This one got more toes."

The woman chuckles as she makes her way to the hall and can't help but smile when she comes face-to-face with her daughter. Maya is the perfect combination of her parents. She's compact, like her mother. Instead of Santana's naturally tan skin, the little girl's complexion is a just a bit darker – more like her father. She has her dad's wide smile and her mom's dimples. Her wildly curly dark hair? It could be either side of the family but her parents only fight to claim it on days when Maya's hair isn't completely out of control.

As predicted, the little girl hadn't been successful in choosing the matching footwear. It seems Maya decided to wear a white ballet-flat on her left foot and a bright green flip-flop on her right.

"Mija, is that how you want to go out? You'll get cold toes, silly."

The little girl wiggles her toes as she thinks about it. Eventually, she points to a pair of rain boots that are lined up in the open hall closet. "Can I wear my lady bugs?"

"You can ..." Santana spots the socks she had put on the girl earlier on the floor and bends down to pick them up. "… but it's not raining. Don't you want to wear these?" She points to a pair of tan boots she bought because they were a perfect match to the little girl's coat. She sits down in front of Maya, places her bag and coffee cup on the floor, and helps the little girl put on her socks - again.

"Okay," Maya say quickly and wiggles her toes a little more, not even noticing that it makes it more difficult for her mom to slip her feet into the socks. "Those are big girl shoes," she says knowingly, as though imparting wise words upon her mother.

"They are." Santana taps Maya's toes before reaching over to grab the boots. She puts on the left boot, and says, "Big girl shoes for a big girl." After kissing the girl's cheek, she stands up, grabs Maya's coat and hands it to her before putting on her own.

"Mama?" the little girl asks as she struggles with her coat. "I'm a big girl now ..." She trails off before looking up with eyes that are nearly identical to her mother's. She takes a few steps and then puts her hand out for the woman to take. "Maybe I can sing with you at the place tonight. If I'm good all day, maybe."

There are few things that Maya will admit to not understanding. She's both smart and proud and that usually means she'd rather work something out for herself than ask for help. Yesterday they toured the arena where her mother would be singing. Afterward, the little girl spent much of the remaining day trying to figure out where they were hiding the flowers in the very-round Madison Square Garden.

Santana purses her lips and swallows roughly as she ties her own coat. Then she bends down to fix Maya's coat collar and says, "We'll see, okay?" She doesn't give the girl much time to answer before standing up, grabbing her bag and coffee cup, and taking the girl's hand to lead her to the door.

Every time Maya attends one of Santana's concerts, the little girl becomes more determined to sing with her mother on stage. This isn't something Santana is comfortable with – knowing that if she allows the girl even a small moment in the spotlight, her daughter's face will be on the front of a magazine or all over the internet. Santana made a promise when Maya was born that she'd protect her little girl from the prying eyes of the media.

And singing to a sold out crowd at Madison Square Garden certainly wouldn't help her keep that promise.

"I'ma be a good listener all day," Maya promises. "And then we can sing the rainbow song!" The little girl hops in place. "The rainbow song is my favourite!"

_The Rainbow Connection _was supposed to be a lullaby. It wasn't meant to be anything more than a song to help the little girl fall asleep. By its third use, though, Maya had learned the melody and a few of the words. Any words she didn't know or understand, she just substituted with a series of mumbles, made-up words or "la la"s.

"Maybe we can get Auntie to sing it with us this time." Santana smiles as she opens the door and leads Maya into the hall toward to the elevator. "You want to press the button?"

Maya's finger pokes the button once and then she smiles up at her mom. She remembers the rules even though they are very hard to follow. Push the button once. Only push one button at a time. Don't run around or jump in the elevator. She's tempted to hit the button again but it's lit up and that means it's already on its way.

Santana leads the girl inside when the doors open. Just as she's about to press the ground floor button, her phone starts ringing in her bag. She frowns, knowing how difficult it's going to be to find it in the oversized bag. "Mija, can you press the button to go and see George?" She rummages through her bag as she searches for her phone.

The little girl nods happily and tries not to bounce on her heels. There's no jumping in the elevator.

"Mr. George is ..." she sticks her tongue out as her finger hovers in front of the button panel. "The star!" She presses the ground floor button, decorated with a number one and a star.

Santana finally spots her phone at the very bottom of the bag and sighs when, not only does she realize that she's running late, but also that her manager is calling her.

Holly's probably calling to tell her what she already knows - that she's running late. Or maybe she's calling to ask Santana to pick up a muffin from Starbucks on her way to the arena. It's hard to predict with her best friend-slash-manager.

She rolls her eyes and ignores the call before glancing at the button panel and smiling when she sees that Maya has pressed the right one. "Good job, baby girl."

Maya is still smiling proudly when the elevator dings and the doors slide open. She sees the concierge standing by the front desk and waves enthusiastically. "Hi, Mr. George! I pushed your button!"

George smiles brightly at the little girl. "Good morning, Miss Maya. How're you today?" After the little girl gives him a beaming smile in response, he greets Santana. "G'morning, Mrs. Rutherford."

"Hi, George. Early shift again?" She gives him her best sympathetic look.

Of all the concierges she's known, George is her favourite. He's an older man with grey hair that's starting to thin out and he has a little bit of a belly. There's an almost grandfatherly quality about him, a sort of protectiveness Santana hadn't experienced with others in his position. It's obvious that Santana and Maya's wellbeing is important to him – and not just because it's part of his job.

George has been known to shoo away reporters and, on occasion, he's had to respectfully send away handfuls of fans who have tried to catch a glimpse of the pop star.

Maya mostly likes him because he's always at the ready with a piece of candy and a smile.

"Ah, I don't mind it," George begins. "I miss the traffic and get to have a hot dog on the way home. I got it pretty good. " He smiles pleasantly and winks at Maya.

"Can we get a hot dog, Mama?" the little girl asks.

George holds up his hand. "Oh, Mrs. Rutherford, I should tell you," he pauses to point toward the door. "You got a coupla cameras out there. Just so you know. Your car already out there waiting?"

She nods. "They called a couple of minutes ago. I'm running late, as usual." She chuckles softly and picks Maya up, resting her on her hip. "Mija, Mama's running late. We'll see what catering has, okay?"

Santana looks into her daughter's eyes and, in a very serious tone, asks, "You remember what I told you to do when there are cameras, right?"

Maya snuggles her head against her mother's shoulder like she's supposed to and keeps her face tucked in close to her neck. George walks around the desk and holds the door open.

The few photographers he'd noticed pacing in front of the lobby door have multiplied into, roughly, a horde of paparazzi . He looks apologetically to Santana and holds his arm out in an attempt to shield her and the little girl as they try to cut a path to the waiting car.

"Santana! Santana!" the photographers yell.

Santana's used to paparazzi, but even for her, the crowd of photographers that have gathered in front of the door is unusual – and unsettling. She figures it might be because tonight is her last show of the tour, and they want her to comment about it.

That is, until they start talking. Though Santana can only make out a few words, like "mistress", "husband" and "cheated", she doesn't need more to figure out exactly what's going on.

Matt cheated on her, and didn't even have the decency to warn her before the story hit the media. To say that, in that moment, she was utterly humiliated was an understatement.

One man steps right into her path and asks, "Comment on your husband's choice of mistress?"

As the flashes go off, Maya pushes her face more fully into her mother's shoulder.

"Is this the first time he's cheated?" another person, this one with a video camera, asks loudly.

Santana can feel the rage boiling inside of her, and she's pretty sure that if she didn't have Maya on her hip, she would probably go all Lima Heights. She stops walking for a moment, and takes a deep breath before deciding that her only mission is to get Maya safely inside the car.

Without so much as a word to the crowd, she holds her hand over Maya's ear and follows George to the car, trying her best to keep a neutral expression on her face.

"Back up, gentleman," George says as nicely as he can through gritted teeth. "And ladies," he adds, spotting a few women with cameras.

Maya tightens her hold and breathes in her mother's perfume as she clenches her eyes closed.

George opens the car door and stays behind Santana, blocking her as best as he can from the cameras.

"Can you comment on ..."

"Please back away," George says, a little more forcefully.

Santana places Maya in her booster seat and secures the seatbelt before quickly getting in. She turns her head to George and offers him the most thankful look she can muster before he closes the door.

She glances at the driver and gives him a serious look. "Can you get us out of here, please?"

He nods and starts the engine. "You got it, Mrs. Rutherford."

She lets out a shaky breath before looking into Maya's eyes, cupping her cheek with her free hand. "Baby, are you okay?"

The little girl nods softly, even as her mouth is pulled down into a small frown. She whispers, "It was really loud."

She runs her hand over the girl's head. "I'm sorry, baby. Don't worry about those people outside, okay? Everything is fine."

Santana tries her best to put on a smile for the sake of her daughter. After leaning in and kissing Maya's forehead, she looks into her eyes. "Would you mind holding this for Mama? It's hot, so be careful, okay?"

When the girl holds out her hands in reply, she passes her travel mug to the girl and makes quick work of rummaging through her large bag in search of her phone. Once she's found it, she unlocks it and dials her manager's number.

Maya sniffs the coffee and leans back in her seat a little more comfortably, careful not to let anything spill from the cup. She turns her head and looks at her mother's reflection in the window.

"Ohmygod," the little girl can hear her Auntie's voice through the cell phone. "I've been calling you all morning! Where are you?"

"I'm in the car, on my way." She swallows roughly before asking her next question. "Is it true?"

Santana knows that living in the spotlight comes with a price, and she also knows that stories in magazines and on gossip websites are almost never a hundred percent true. But something deep down is telling her that what the paparazzi were shouting at her only minutes ago is highly likely to be truthful. Something was telling her that her husband had not only been careless and insensitive, but he also humiliated her in one of the worst ways possible.

"I'm sorry, honey," Holly says. "I wanted to be the one to tell you. Are you okay? Is Maya with you?"

"She's here. I can't..." She takes a calming breath. "How could he be so stupid?"

Not even a few miles away, Holly Holiday is pacing backstage in the arena. "I don't know," she says, "but he's caused a massive PR storm. It's going to die down, eventually, but you're in the eye of it." She leans against a tower amp and sighs. "Do you want me to release a comment to the press? I can spin it if you want."

Santana shakes her head, even though Holly can't see her. "No, just – just, wait until I get there, okay?" She glances at Maya and swallows roughly again. "Can you make sure nobody's there when we arrive? I can't handle more press right now."

"Consider it done." Holly snaps her fingers and a large man carrying another amplifier puts his load down and walks over. "I've got Reggie on the gate," she says.

Reggie simply nods and heads to the door.

"Arena security is there, too, but you know Reggie and he's good with Maya. So, if there's any problem, he'll take care of it."

Santana nods. "Thanks, Holls. We'll be there soon, okay?" She's about to end the call when she adds, "And if _he _calls you, don't pick up."

Maya frowns deeply, her eyes skirting to the the little opening in the lid of her mother's travel mug.

"Of course," Holly says. "And, hey, I can take care of it. You don't even have to be part of this. You and Maya are my concern. If you want me to make it go away, I don't care what I have to say about him to make that happen."

"I just - let me think about it first, okay? I need some time for it to sink in."

"You got it, honey," she replies. "See you in a few ... "

"Yeah, see you in a few …"

She disconnects the call and puts her phone in her bra where it's more accessible. After scooting closer to her daughter, Santana wraps her arm around Maya's shoulders and gently pulls the girl into her.

Santana lets out a long sigh before relieving her daughter of travel mug duty. She takes a sip and tries to ignore the feeling that she's going to need more than just a cup of coffee to get her through the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

Santana makes her way off stage, high from performing in front of a sold out crowd. The support she feels from her fans is indescribable and has made the evening – this last show of her tour – such an emotional one.

And how many encores was that, anyway? Santana has no idea but she's run out of songs and thinks that, when you run out of songs, it's probably a sign to get off the stage.

No matter how loudly the crowd is cheering.

Her manager meets her at the bottom of the steps that lead from the stage to the backstage area and out to the green room and dressing rooms. Santana smiles, her eyes still a little wet from the he fans' cheers, their home-made signs and all of the other ways she felt her audience giving back to her.

"Thanks for making me go up there tonight," she says gratefully.

"You hear them?" They're still going …" Holly hugs her tightly. "Either they love you or someone laced all the shirts in merch with something really potent. Jeez, listen to that!" She pauses long enough for Santana to hear the continuing cheers even as security is trying to move everyone out of the arena.

"Now, look," Holly looks directly into the other woman's eyes. "I've got a guest I think you need to greet. Get your picture taken - all of that stuff, okay?"

Santana shakes her head sadly. The thought of a meet and greet right now makes her performance high rapidly diminish. "Not tonight, Holls. Please."

"Yes, tonight. Tonight is the exact night you need to do this." Holly grasps her friend's hand and leads her toward her dressing room. "You always greet after the show and if you don't tonight, then people will talk."

She sighs as she lets Holly lead her. "I just want to go home and cuddle with my little girl."

"You can and you will - after a few pictures. Just trust me," Holly says with an encouraging smile. "Okay, go to your dressing room. The sooner we do this, the soon it's over, okay?"

Santana knows that Holly's right. About the meet and greet, about the pictures, about - everything. Because that's how it works with Holly. The woman tells her to do something, Santana does it and everything seems to work out just fine.

She looks into her manager's eyes. "Fifteen minutes, okay?" With that, she sighs and heads to her dressing room.

"I'll have her out in ten," Holly promises as she pulls a walkie talkie out of the waistband of her pants. "Reggie, can you send our guest back, please?"

On the other side of the stage barriers, Reggie hears Holly's request. "Right," he says as he pokes a sausage-like finger toward the two waiting women and then jabs his thumb over his shoulder. "This way."

"Thank you," a woman with light-brown hair says congenially. She stares at the word _security_ on the back of the man's windbreaker as they make their way down a long hall. She inhales deeply and then glances at her cousin. "Okay, Marley. We'll just get a couple of pictures, do the meet and greet thing and then get out of here, okay?"

Marley pouts, her already wide eyes growing even wider. "But when am I ever gonna get the chance to talk to Santana Lopez again, Rach? C'mon. If she wants us to stay and talk ..."

"- she won't. So, let's do this and go home," Rachel says sternly. "It's getting late."

Santana makes it to her dressing room before her guests. As she opens the door and steps inside, she tilts her head as she smiles softly at the scene in front of her. Kurt Hummel, her stylist, is sitting on the couch and running his fingers through Maya's hair as she rests her head on his lap.

She whispers. "Was she okay? She didn't hassle you to bring her on stage, did she?"

He shakes his head before looking down at Maya, a fond smile pulling at his lips. "She didn't even mention it again after that little tantrum she had before the show." He points to the TV. "We just watched."

After they turn the last corner before the hall of dressing rooms, Marley holds her hand out and stop Rachel from moving forward. She pushes her lips together and hops in place as she stares at the name on the door. _Santana Lopez_.

"Tell me this isn't the coolest thing you've ever done," she says. "Because this is the coolest thing I've ever done."

"This is _not_ the coolest thing I've done," Rachel says blandly. "And you know, you havebeen to _my_ dressing room, too."

Marley frowns in confusion and shakes her head. "But, you're you," she explains. "This is Santana Lopez. And I'm about to knock on her door and meet her. This is, seriously, the coolest thing I've ever done."

While her cousin is talking, Rachel reaches in front of her and raps on the door. "Now it's the coolest thing you almost did."

Santana bends down and kisses Maya's forehead before standing up straight again and taking a deep breath. "It's open … "

She's hoping that when the door opens there is a little girl standing in front of it. Because even though she's having a bad day, just the thought of being able to make a little girl's dream come true brings a smile to her face.

Marley clasps her hands in front of her chest and whispers excitedly, "That's Santana Lopez!"

Rachel just rolls her eyes. "Just go in already."

The younger of the two opens the door and peeks her head in. "Hi, I'm - " she sees the little girl sleeping and lowers her voice. "Sorry, I'm Marley and my cousin ... "

Marley looks behind her, surprised at how her cousin hangs back. Rachel doesn't do that. She leads and pushes and, really, Marley's not sure why the other woman is acting like this is something she's being _forced_ to do instead of something super amazing that she _gets_ to do.

She waves Rachel closer.

Rachel bites her lip as she steps up behind her cousin. "Rachel Berry," she says, not sure how to play this off. Should she feign knowledge of the singer? Act like they are strangers? "Hi."

Santana's eyes widen the moment she recognizes the other woman. "Rach-" She clears her throat. "Rachel. What're you doing here..?"

"Marley's visiting me. I thought I'd try to earn some cool cousin points by bringing her to the show," Rachel explains so easily that it almost sounds rehearsed. "You were great by the way. Amazing, really."

"Wait," Marley interrupts. She looks at her cousin, then at the other woman and then back to her cousin. "You didn't tell me you _know _Santana Lopez."

"You don't have to say her whole name, Marley."

Santana shakes her head to pull herself out of the daze she's in and walks up to the two girls, smiling softly at Marley. "It's nice to meet you, Marley." She pulls the girl into a quick hug before pulling back and glancing at Rachel. "I didn't - I didn't know you were coming tonight."

"I didn't announce it," Rachel admits. "Sometimes I like to go out under the radar." She bites her bottom lip and blinks before looking away. "It really was a great show ..."

Santana smiles softly, nervously. "Thank you," she says genuinely before admitting, "It was probably the most emotionally draining show I've ever done. The audience was just … " She lets out a sigh, not quite knowing how to put her feelings into words.

"They adore you. It's clear," Rachel says. " I think they really showed it tonight, don't you?"

She nods. "They did. They always seem to be able to take my breath away."

Santana looks at Rachel for a moment - actually looks at her. She didn't always look like that, did she? No. Santana's pretty sure the woman standing in front of her has never looked better. More comfortable. More herself.

There are other people in the room, so Santana forces herself not to let her eyes linger too long or allow her mind to reminisce.

"What about you?" she asks, quickly turning to Marley. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Are you kidding?" Marley shakes her head and smile brightly. "It was - _you _were amazing. I kind of can't believe I'm here right now, actually."

"She's star-struck," Rachel teases. "Never with _me_ or with _my_ friends, mind you."

"You're just Rachel," Marley says, rolling her eyes and looping her arm around her cousin's.

"Well thank you. I really appreciate that." Santana leans in to fake-whisper. "I won't tell Rachel you think I'm better than her." She chuckles softly, genuinely, for the first time since she heard about her husband and that 'wannabe skank-whore'. "Seriously, I'm glad you both could make it tonight."

Rachel spies the little girl asleep on the couch. "We should get out of your hair," she says quietly. "Maybe a quick picture?"

Santana nods. "Yeah, of course."

She glances at Kurt. "Lady, mind taking a picture for us?"

"Yeah, sure." He slowly lifts Maya's head off of his lap and stands up, placing her gently on the couch.

Marley's brows furrow as she tries to figure out why Santana is calling her obviously male friend "Lady."

"Here," Rachel waves her cousin over and steps away, letting Marley have the photo with Santana to herself.

Santana furrows her brow at Rachel. "You don't want to be in the picture?"

The other woman's eyes widen a little. "Oh, I just thought ..." Marley smiles brightly and excitedly waves her over. "... okay." Rachel clears her throat and then moves to stand next to Marley.

"No, the other side," her cousin says, pushing her to the other side of Santana so that the woman is sandwiched between them.

Santana smiles and wraps her arms around each one of the girl's waists as Marley hands Kurt her iPhone.

Kurt takes a number of photos. He's learned that, when it comes to brushes with celebrities, it's always best to take a couple of pictures in case the first one is blurry or someone's mouth is open or eyes are closed.

Rachel waits for Santana's friend to tell them that he's got the picture. Her smile is plastered in place - it's the one she always uses after shows when she greets fans. "Got it?"

Kurt nods. "It's great." He smiles and gives Marley her phone back. Santana turns her head and glances at Rachel, her breath hitching, still not quite believing she's standing beside her.

Rachel nervously pulls her bottom lip between her teeth when she her eyes meet Santana's.

"Mama?" a sleepy voice calls out.

Santana's brought out of her daze by her daughter's voice. She gives both Marley and Rachel a soft look before heading to the couch. "Hey, sleepyhead." She runs her fingers through the girl's now messy, curly hair.

Maya blinks a few times before rubbing her clenched hand over one eye. Her lips fall into a pout. "Is it nigh-night time now?" she asks before she notes, "I didn't sing with you."

Santana kisses her daughter's temple. "It's okay, mija." She looks into the little girl's eyes. "You want to meet some people, Maya?"

The little girl blinks a few more times and then looks around her mother at the two strangers. She looks Rachel up and down, and then Marley. After a moment of deliberation, she finally softly says, "Okay."

She scoots off of the couch and steps in front of the women. "Hi. I'm Maya and you're strangers."

Santana chuckles. "They're not strangers." She stands up and makes her way to her daughter, placing her hand on the girl's shoulder. "That's Marley..." She points to the girl. "… and this is Rachel." She swallows roughly as she looks into Rachel's eyes.

"It's very nice to meet you, Maya," Marley says, bending her knees so that she's closer to the little girl's height.

Her cousin's words jar Rachel and she breaks her gaze with Santana. Clearing her throat, she glances at Maya and then back to the woman standing in front of her and whispers, "She's beautiful, Santana. Just - beautiful."

Maya beams. "That's 'ecause I look like Mama!"

"Nah, baby girl. You're way cuter." Santana chuckles as she dips down to pick up her daughter. She rests the little girl on her hip and tells Rachel, "She really is."

Rachel opens her mouth to say something, but then thinks better of it.

"How old are you?" Marley asks, completely charmed by the little girl.

"Four," Maya answers, holding up three fingers.

Santana shakes her head and smiles softly. "You're still only three, mija. You're not four until your birthday."

"My birthday is next," Maya informs Marley. "Then Mama. Then me and then Auntie Holly and then me and then Daddy."

Rachel laughs at the little girl as she nods seriously. "I like the way you think, Maya," she says warmly.

Maya wrinkles her nose and, suddenly feeling shy, buries her face in her mother's neck.

Santana chuckles and shakes her head. "Oh, now you pretend to be shy, baby?" Santana rubs the girl's back soothingly.

Maya giggles but doesn't lift her head.

"We should probably let you," Rachel stalls for a second, "um, do whatever it is you probably need to be doing right now."

Marley nods and holds her hand out to Santana. "It was really nice to meet you. The show tonight was," she trails off, shaking her head in awe, "just amazing."

She takes the girl's hand and shakes it, smiling warmly at Marley. "Thank you, Marley. I really appreciate the support, and I'm glad you enjoyed yourself tonight." She turns her attention to Rachel, not quite knowing what to say.

"So ..." the smaller brunette licks her lips and looks around nervously. Her eyes meet Santana's and she says, "It was really nice to see you again."

She ignores the confusion in Marley's eyes, knowing she'll be questioned incessantly on the way home. Rachel clears her throat and pushes her hand out, awkwardly.

Santana eyes Rachel's hand sceptically before taking it in her own and shaking it. "Yeah, absolutely." She smiles softly, almost nervously at her before biting her lip, Rachel's hand still in her own.

After letting out an embarrassed breath, Rachel rolls her eyes and tugs on the other woman's hand, pulling her into a loose hug.

Santana's lips pull into a soft smile as she leans into the hug.

"It really is good to see you," Rachel whispers before pulling away. "Really."

The other woman into Rachel's eyes as she steps out of the hug.

Marley shuffles her feet as she watches the exchange. She's clearly not in-the-know about what's going on here. It makes no sense to her why her cousin wouldn't have mentioned that she knew Santana Lopez. _The _Santana Lopez_. _It's not like Rachel didn't have ample opportunity. Marley had been talking non-stop about the concert ever since her cousin surprised her with tickets.

"Mama," Maya whispers, "do I haffa hug her?"

Santana blinks, the sound of her daughter's voice pulling her out of her trance. With a chuckle, she glances at her daughter. "Do you want to?"

Maya shakes her head, her curls bouncing as she does so.

"You don't know what you're missing," Rachel teases. "I give good hugs, kiddo."

The little girl squints and studies the other woman. Then she shakes her head again, reiterating her earlier decision.

Santana twirls one of Maya's curls around her finger. "That's okay, pretty girl. Maybe next time." She takes her eyes off of her daughter and looks to Rachel, the question obviously addressed to her.

Marley sees her cousin's mouth open and close a few times, an answer obviously not coming to her very quickly. "That'd be great," she answers for her.

Rachel looks at Marley with wide eyes and then looks back to Santana. "Uh, yeah." She nods. "Yeah, sure. That'd be," she takes a calming breath. "Next time."

Santana offers a gentle smile as she nods. "Okay. I – uh - I better let you go. I know how you don't like driving late at night."

Once they are outside of the dressing room, Rachel lets out a tired breath.

"How does Santana Lopez know you don't like to drive at night?" Marley asks suspiciously.

"That's a story for another night," her cousin answers.

Marley nods and watches Rachel from the corner of her eye. "But there_ is_ a story?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Another night, Marley. Let's just go home."


	3. Chapter 3

Santana meets Holly at her office the next morning. Normally they'd get together at a coffee shop and hash out their plan over double-shots; but, neither wanted to deal with potential eavesdroppers. And they certainly couldn't meet at Santana's apartment. Not with Maya around.

Luckily, Kurt offered to look after the little girl. By now, he was probably a few episodes into Dora the Explorer and busy braiding Maya's unruly hair.

"So," Holly places a bloody mary on the small glass table in front of Santana. "How are you?"

Santana sighs and takes the glass. "The bags under my eyes don't give it away?"

Holly puts her drink down. "I was easing into it, honey. But if you're ready to jump right in ..." she says as she slips into her chair. "I guess I have to ask how much you know before we can figure out what to do."

"I've been keeping away from the internet and Matt had the decency not to call me yesterday. He's probably still sleeping." She takes a sip from the glass that was in front of her before putting it down.

"Okay, then. Let me rephrase," her friend offers. "How much do you want to know?"

She looks into Holly's eyes. "As little as possible."

Holly nods before letting out a little sigh. "I'm sorry this is happening. But you know that we're going to nail his ass to the wall, right?"

"No." Santana glances at her glass. "I don't want that."

"Yes, you do."

She shakes her head before catching her friend's gaze again. "If we do that, Maya's going to grow up knowing what her father did. And everyone around her will know it, too. I don't want her to go through that."

Holly looks down and toys with the rim of her glass. "She's going to find out someday, anyway, you know?" She meets her friend's eyes. "One day, she's going to pick up a biography or something and it's going to be in there."

"I know, okay?" She sighs. "And that's going to be hard enough. I don't want to make it worse by… nailing his ass to the wall." She gives Holly a pleading look.

"Okay. Look, it's your call." The other woman pushes her drink away and puts her hands on the table, open for Santana's. "Plan B, then. Pull a Jennifer Aniston."

Holly takes her friend's hands and announces, "Take the high road."

"As your manager," she says, "this is the best thing you can do. As your friend … " she trails off before giving Santana a cheeky smirk. "I'm still up for ass nailing."

Santana chuckles. "You never really liked him, did you?"

The other woman grimaces. "It's not that I don't like Matt. I do," she says, only half-believably. "You want me to be honest with you?"

Santana nods and smiles softly. "When have you not been?"

Holly looks up, as though thinking about it. "You're right," she finally says, bringing her gaze back to Santana. "Truth is, he's fine," she admits. "For someone else."

"I thought that person was me. Once." Santana sighs. "Honestly, I don't blame him for what he did. I just - I wish he had been more careful."

"Why didn't you tell me there was trouble in paradise?"

She glances down at her glass. "Who wants to admit that?"

"Fair point." Holly squeezes Santana's hand. "Aunt Holly is always around, okay? Maybe I could have helped or at least taken you shopping."

She pauses, tilts her head and asks, "Did he break your heart or just your pride?"

Santana takes a moment to think before swallowing roughly. "If I say my pride, will you judge me?"

Holly shakes her head and confidently answers, "Never." She lets go of her friend's hand and leans back in her chair. "The best revenge for wounded pride, you know, is to make it look like you're not hurt at all. Can you do that?"

She nods her head. "I think so. How upset did I look yesterday when I got into that car?"

"You looked ..." Holly pulls her phone out of her pocket and brings up a photo from TMZ. "To someone who doesn't know you? In a hurry, maybe? To someone who does?" She sets the phone on the table, facing her friend. "Your eyes say it all, Santana. You were blindsided."

Santana glances at the screen and sighs. "Do you think they knew – about the blindsided?"

"Honesty, right?" Holly asks and then, without waiting, she says, "Yes. But it's a good thing. You've got the media on your side and taking the high road will keep them there."

The other woman lets out a shaky breath. "Has his team commented on all of this? Is he denying it?"

Holly laughs. "Oh, no. His agent's not letting him near the press and everyone's being very tight-lipped. But, Sugar ..." The woman stops talking and winces, realizing that Santana probably didn't know the name of the woman responsible for this mess.

Santana frowns and raises her brow. "Sugar? Sugar Motta!?"

"The one and only," Holly admits. "And, as you know, the only thing she likes more than talking is tweeting. She's loving the attention and insists they're in love. Again," she emphasizes, "Matt's camp is going without comment right now."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Of course they're not." She sighs and sips her drink. "So, what was it? A picture of them? Or did she tweet something?"

"Let's just say that she's _not_ very smart," Holly says firmly. "It was a picture and she thought she was being sly, I guess, because it was of Matt's back, not his face."

When Maya was born, Matt felt like the happiest, proudest daddy ever to set eyes on his baby girl. True, the baby might have not been planned, but there wasn't a moment that he didn't consider her a blessing. He was in love from the start.

That's why, when Maya was only a week old, he made up his mind to dedicate an art piece on his back in honour of his baby girl. Inside of a stylized heart was inked her first and middle names along with her birthdate. Had Matt not gotten such a personalized tattoo, he might have been able to deny that it was him in Sugar's photo.

Santana's scoffs. "Not very smart? Holly, his tattoo is almost as famous as he is. That wasn't 'not very smart,' that was really stupid."

"Well, that and the fact that you could see her in the mirror and she was wearing his jersey," The other woman sighs. "There's no doubt it was his number. So, add that and the tattoo to the fact that he was asleep in her bed? Media field day."

Santana sighs deeply. "I don't get how he could be so stupid. I mean, even if he didn't want to protect our relationship, he should have at least thought about Maya."

Holly brings her glass to her lips and, before taking a sip, offers, "Ten bucks says he wasn't thinking with his brain."

"You're damn right there." She purses her lips together. "I guess I don't blame him."

The other woman struggles to swallow her mouthful of Bloody Mary. "You don't blame him? Did you take some drugs before coming over?"

She looks into Holly's eyes. "No, no, I blame him for not being careful. I think he was really fucking stupid and irresponsible. But…." She shrugs. "… the actual cheating part? I guess not so much."

"You're not about to confess something to me, are you?"

Santana furrows her brow. "What?" It takes a moment for it click and her eyes widen. "You think I cheated? God, no. When would I have had time for that?"

"So, what you're saying is - " Santana's cell phone interrupts Holly's thought.

Santana looks cautiously into her friend's eyes. "Lemme check that, okay..?" She takes her phone out of her bra and sighs at the name on the screen. "It's Matt."

"Want me to take it?" the other woman asks almost hopefully as she puts her hand out. There's a devious glint in her eyes as she tries not to jump out her seat and take the phone out of her friend's hand.

Santana shakes her head and takes a steadying breath. "No, I may as well get this over with."

She answers the call without a greeting. "Explain and good luck."

"Oh, hey." Matt sounds surprised but tries to cover it by clearing his throat. "I didn't think you'd pick up ..."

"I wanted to hear how you were going to try and get yourself out of this one. So, let's have it." She glances at Holly. "I'm prepared to shovel through your bullshit excuses."

"I'm sorry." He mutters, clearly not knowing what else to say. "I'm just, I'm really sorry."

"You're sorry?" She raises her brow. "You're sorry, Matt? Do you think you could've had the fucking decency to warn me at least? I could've done something about it. Prepare, maybe?"

He blows out a long breath into the phone. "That's what you're mad about?" he asks, his voice teetering between disbelief and hurt. "You just care about how it made you look, is that it?"

She takes a deep breath. "Are you sorry about cheating on me?"

"No, but you could at least act like it hurt you a little," Matt says. "You could act like you care that our marriage is over. God, San ... "

She clenches her jaw. "You don't get that from me. You don't deserve it." She lets out a shaky breath. "You weren't exactly thinking about me and our marriage when you were fucking her, were you? And what about our three-year-old daughter, Matt!"

It's quiet on the other end of the line for a moment. "I should have told you," he admits. "And I know how I look to everyone else but…." Matt pauses. "But look, you can do whatever you want just don't bring MJ into this. Can we leave her out of it?"

"Something else you should have thought of because guess who was with me when the paparazzi showed up to yell today's entertainment news in my face?" Santana closes her eyes and tries to calm herself. "What am I supposed to tell her? What if she sees those pictures on a magazine or something? She already heard what those paparazzi said."

Holly tries her best not to look like she's eavesdropping on Santana's half of the conversation by concentrating on her drink. When that one's done, she grabs the her friend's abandoned drink and starts on that one.

"I can't change what Sugar did -" he begins.

"You should've been _careful_, Matt. You should've.." She closes her eyes for a second and rubs her temple."You should have been thinking about what _you_ were doing."

"I was careful," he argues. "_You_ didn't know, did you?" Matt sighs. "Look, I don't want to draw this out. We both know we've been heading here for a while. So, I won't fight you on money or anything. But Maya ..."

Santana's breath hitches. "What about Maya?"

"I'm not just going to walk away from her."

"Do _you_ think I trust you with her now? That you have a choice?"

"I stepped out on you, not on her," Matt says. "Don't make this about her."

"I'm not letting my child be around that Paris Hilton wannabe, okay?"

Holly crosses her arms as she listens and frowns once the conversation turns to Maya. She gets up, finds a piece of paper on her desk and writes a note. She comes back to the table and slaps it down in front of Santana.

_Tell him: Full custody or Holly's releasing a statement._

Matt and Holly have always had a tumultuous relationship. It couldn't be any other way. How could they get along once he learned that Holly tried to talk Santana out of marrying him?

Santana glances at the piece of paper in front of her and reads what Holly wrote. She looks up into Holly's eyes, slightly unsure of saying what Holly told her to. "I don't trust you, Matt. And I sure as hell don't trust or want Maya around _her_. So." She pauses before firmly stating," I want full custody."

"Santana!" her husband's voice gets louder. "C'mon, don't do this to me, okay? We can work out a shared thing ..."

Holly grabs the paper, scribbles on it and shoves it toward Santana. She points to the phone and nods her head.

_The media is on your side and the courts will be, too. Tell him to be smart._

"I don't want a _shared _thing, Matt. Even part time I don't want her around Sugar. Full custody or Holly's releasing a statement." She purses her lips together. "Do the right thing, Matt."

"You have to promise me that you won't keep her from me, Santana," he says desperately. "I can't lose her over this. You just gotta promise me, okay?" He pauses and clears his throat. "I'm still her daddy and you'll let me see her."

She sighs and closes her eyes. "I know how much she adores you. I'd never take that away from her. But this is on my terms. And you have to promise _me_ that rich bitch goes nowhere near Maya."

"Done," Matt replies with easily. Holly rests her hand on Santana's shoulder and watches the other woman's face carefully.

Santana meets her friend's impatient gaze and nods her head.

"Can I ask why you did it, Matt? And I don't mean the cheating part, because ..." She exhales softly and presses her lips together. "... because I get that part. But why would you let the media get a hold of this? Would you ruin us so spectacularly? I thought, if nothing else, we'd always be best friends."

Matt was the first person Santana met when she moved away to college. She was staring at a map of the UCLA campus, a frown firmly set on her lips, when he offered her a charming smile and directions to the Schoenberg Music Building. They went their separate ways that day, but ended up running into each other in their on (and off) campus hangouts: an all-night midterm study jam in the student activities center, the early bird workout at the John Wooden Center, a late night pizza craving-stopper at Enzo's.

A few months after they started dating, Matt confessed that he thought it was some kind of divine intervention that brought them together. A cheerleader and a basketball player - both aiming for the stars in high risk careers – just seemed to make sense.

It was Matt, after all, who pushed Santana to leave the stability of college life and reject the "fall back" plan in order to make her dreams come true. He believed in her talent (as much as his own) and supported her when she left UCLA to tour as a background singer.

She returned the favour when he was a top draft pick at the end of his senior year. She'd already been working on her album and was gaining fans, as well as critical acclaim. With Holly managing her, she found a way to take off to attend Matt's games without stopping the momentum she'd been creating. Santana was court-side his entire first season, cheering him on.

They were the golden couple.

"It wasn't me, Santana," Matt says. "I wouldn't do that to you. And I know you don't believe me because of what happened but I didn't know she was going to post a picture."

"You're telling me you had no idea she was going to do something like that?"

"No, I mean," he flounders. "I thought she was making an idle threat. I didn't think she'd actually do it."

Had Matt actually taken a moment to think about who he was fooling around with, he would have realized that no threat is an idle threat when given by a spoiled socialite. Sugar cornered him earlier the evening she took the now-famous photo and asked him how much longer he needed before leaving his wife.

He couldn't answer because he never actually intended to leave Santana.

In hindsight, it probably wasn't a good idea to let the sort-of celebrity know this.

Santana rolls her eyes and scoffs. "You should've done something about it, Matt."

He blows out a breath. "I know that ... now." Matt inhales. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Santana. You know that, right? "

"I find that hard to believe."

"I don't want you to hate me," he admits. "We were best friends for a long time and, okay, I should have been honest with you. But you knew we weren't working." His voice is softer when he says, "We - I - didn't want to accept it but we don't belong together anymore. And I should have said something. I should have."

Santana bites her lip and her expression turns softer. "I know you're not the only one to blame. I know I wasn't exactly the easiest person to be with ..."

Matt laughs softly. "I think it's the not being with you that wasn't easy. We haven't been together in a long time, not like we used to be. And I realize, kind of late, that I owe you honesty."

He's quiet for a moment and then admits, "I know you haven't been in love with me. Not for a while now or, I don' t know, maybe not ever. But you deserved better than this. I should have had the guts to just call it off."

Holly narrows her eyes when she notices that Santana hasn't said anything for a little while.

"I'm sorry. This went down the wrong way and," Matt says, "I'm just really, really sorry about that."

"I ..." She swallows roughly, not knowing how to answer him. "... I think you deserved better than this, too." She takes a deep breath. "If I ask you something, will you be completely honest with me..?"

"A hundred percent," he answers without even thinking.

"How many were there?" She glances at Holly.

"Is it important?"

"It is to me," she says. "I need to know if the press is going to try to surprise me again."

"Shit," Matt whispers to himself. "A few? Like, maybe six, I guess? I didn't count - they didn't mean anything."

Holly squeezes Santana's shoulder and gives her a questioning look. "You okay?" she mouths to her friend.

"I thought if I found someone to fill in the spaces we were missing, then we'd be fine," he explains. "Which sounds really, really stupid when I say it out loud."

She closes her eyes and lets out a shaky breath, trying to keep her emotions out of her voice. "Yeah, really stupid. Asinine, actually."

Matt's voice is almost a whisper. "It's okay if you hate me. I get it."

"I don't hate you, Matt. I hate the way you chose to deal with all of this, but I don't hate you. I kinda want to, though. Kinda wish I could." She chuckle humourlessly.

Holly lets go of Santana's shoulder and takes the seat across from her. She grabs the note on the table and starts playing with it. "So, I guess, um," Matt finally says, "the rest is for our lawyers and managers, huh?"

Santana nods, even though Matt can't see her. "Yeah, I guess so." She stays quiet for a moment before continuing. "I think I'm going to stay in New York for a while. Let things sink in."

"Yeah, okay," he says. "And we can talk about Maya coming out to visit or, you know, me coming to see her sometime?"

"We'll look into it." She purses her lips together.

"I can't ask for more than that, I guess," he says sullenly. "Look, I'm going to go. I have stuff to do - clean up and, whatever."

"Yeah, yeah. I have to get going, too. I'll be in touch about Maya, okay? Maybe you can Facetime with her later tonight or something."

"I'd like that, thanks," he says, "bye."

Holly waits and, when she thinks Santana is about to hang up, holds up a small paper crane and smiles.

Santana smiles sadly at Holly as she places her phone on the table. "So, guess that's it."

Holly pushes the crane toward Santana. "You alright, Peaches?"

Santana just shrugs and takes the paper crane. She'd rather focus on the paper bird than on her friend.

"This sucks, but it's going to get better," Holly says. "And I have just the thing to get your mind off of this mess."

She looks into Holly's eyes, a soft smile flirting with the edges of her mouth. "Are you going to suggest another bloody mary, because I saw you drinking mine?"

"I wasn't trying to be discreet," the other woman says and, to emphasize her point, she downs the rest of Santana's drink. "So, I heard a wild rumour through a very tangled grapevine that you plan to stick around and play in my neighbourhood for a while ..."

Santana gasps playfully. "Were you eavesdropping?" She chuckles and nods her head. "Yeah, I like New York. And usually," She makes a point of emphasising her last word. "The paparazzi aren't so bad here. I think that's probably best for Maya."

"Good!" Holly pops out of her sea and grabs a large envelope from her desk. "I think you should do this." She hands the package to Santana and pops her brows up and down as she waits for the other woman to open it.

When her friend doesn't open the envelope fast enough, Holly waves her hands in front of her, gesturing for her to hurry.

Santana eyes the package sceptically before glancing at Holly. The one good thing about having your best friend as your manager is the fact that you can trust them completely. So Santana decides not to question it any further before opening the envelope and taking out what seems to be a bunch of papers.

When it's completely out of the envelope, Santana realizes it's a script. She glances at the title and then back to Holly. "Broadway?"

"The producers came looking for you," Holly explains. "Their Lucy is going out on maternity and they want to bring you in for a short run. I think you'd be great."

She runs her finger along the title. "Jekyll and Hyde ..." Her eyes go from the script to Holly. "Have you seen it?"

"Twice," she says. "Let me tell you ... Emma? The other female lead? She's amazing." Holly snaps her fingers a few times. "I don't remember her name. I just call her Emma. Anyway, you should do this."

"You said the producers came looking? Was this before? Because with all this media attention I'm getting, they might not want me anymore."

"You're kidding, right?" Holly pushes her brows together. "Broadway needs some media attention right now. And you're on the right side of the story. If anything, they'll be more interested."

She nods and then glances back down at the script. "Let me read it first, okay? You know I don't like doing things I'm not a hundred percent committed to."

"You're going to love it," Holly says before teasing, "You get to be a prostitute with a heart."

Santana chuckles. "Oh, is that how you see me, huh?"

She looks at Holly and takes a deep breath before asking. "How many shows are there a week? Because I've just spent months on tour, and even if I want to do this, there's still Maya to consider."

Holly takes the script and sets it on the table. "The show runs six nights a week, but we can negotiate your appearances. As long as you do the Friday Saturday and Sunday shows, we can finesse a few extra days off for you."

Santana nods again and gives Holly a soft look. "Thanks, Holls. I don't know how you do it, but you know the things I want even before I do." She chuckles.

Holly just gives her an enigmatic smile. "You wanna thank me? Buy me a street taco. I haven't had one in ... " she huffs and pouts, "like, two days."

Santana rolls her eyes playfully. "Only if you don't mind Maya tagging along." She wrinkles her nose as she thinks. "I'm pretty sure Kurt has had his fair share of Dora for the day."

"Psh, he's a wuss. He'd never survive our sleepovers." Holly grabs her purse and checks that her office keys are inside before ushering Santana out of the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Watching her daughter skip in front of her, Santana takes a calming breath before calling out, "Maya Jade, I said no running."

"M'not running! I'm skipping!" Maya announces as she propels herself even further ahead of her mother. She stops at the doors to the auditorium and, once Santana catches up, the girl smiles brightly. "I win!"

Santana gives her daughter an unimpressed glance before holding open the door that leads to the theatre.

From her spot in the wings, Rachel doesn't hear the doors opening or notice that she's not alone in the theatre anymore. With a take-out coffee cup in one hand and her other stretched out to brush against the velvet curtain as she passes it, she walks onto the stage.

As usual, she's the first there. Her director is nearly always late and, even though the man only lives a few blocks away, she knows he'll blame traffic for his tardiness. Her co-star – the one who isn't about to begin maternity leave – likes to make an entrance and that can't happen if no one else is there. The stage manager, she knows, is in the office having already set up everything they need for their rehearsal-slash-meeting.

The clicking of heels on wood stops Santana mid-step. She takes her eyes off of her daughter, the little girl descending the steps a little more quickly than she prefers, and looks up at the stage.

She's not sure who she expects to see. The stage manager or director, perhaps? Maybe the costume designer or lighting director? She runs through a list of people who could be on the stage. Crew, cast ... a whole litany. Her eyes widen as she sees the one person she hadn't considered.

Rachel Berry.

A part of her thinks it isn't a coincidence and she wonders if maybe fate is working through some plan. A different part of her says, if that's what's happening, then fate has a weird sense of humour. This isn't at all what she had in mind when she told the other woman that she'd like to see her again.

The truth of the matter is that Rachel is part of a past she hasn't been able to shake completely. It's almost bittersweet. The woman standing in front of her is a reminder of things she thinks she'd rather forget – so many fears, lies, regrets – but at the same time there's something so welcoming about being in her presence again.

Her attention is pulled from the stage when Maya shouts, "Lookit, Mama!"

The little girl spins around and walks backward, taking exaggerated steps to make sure she doesn't fall over. She pushes her arms out for balance and, once she's sure she's stable, gives her mother a toothy grin. "I'm goin' backward!"

Rachel's attention is pulled toward the house when she hears the small, clear voice.

"Honey, you're going to fall. Turn around, okay?"

Rachel squints into the darkened house but she is only able to see faint outlines of figures. "Hello?"

Taking her eyes off of her daughter again, Santana glances up to the stage and says, "Hey. Hi, Rachel."

The woman on stage puts her hand up over her eyes to block the spotlights and tries to see into the house. "Santana?" she asks in confusion. "Is that you?"

"No, it's _Mama_," Maya corrects stubbornly as she finally turns to walk the right way.

"Yeah, it's me." Santana squeezes her daughter's shoulder. "Are you in the show?" She knows the answer but for some reason feels the need to hear it directly from the other woman.

"I am," Rachel answers. "Are you touring the theatre? Seeing the show tonight?" She tries not to sound hopeful, but she can't deny that a part of her kind of likes the idea of Santana stopping by to see her - of her coming to the show and seeing her perform, of seeing that she was successful in attaining at least part of the life she'd told Santana, all those years ago, she was going to have.

Santana furrows her brow. "You don't know?" When Rachel just continues to look at her expectantly, she hesitantly says, "I'm actually your new co-star."

"You - you're taking Lucy while Bridget's on leave?" Rachel's attempt to hide her surprise fails spectacularly.

Santana nods. "Yeah, I wasn't sure about taking the role, but someone I trust persuaded me into doing it." As she reaches the edge of the stage, she places her hands on it and looks up at Rachel.

"I didn't even know Broadway was on your list," the other woman says casually. A tiny smile grows as she says, "I'm glad it is, though. You'll love it. And Marley will be so excited to get to see you perform again. She ... ." She shakes her head as she trails off. After a little giggle, she says, "She's _still_ talking about the fact that she met you."

Rachel rolls her eyes before clasping her hands over her chest, making her voice sound giddy and saying, "Can you believe I actually met _the_ Santana Lopez? If I didn't have the picture, I would think it was a dream ..."

The other woman chuckles warmly. "She's sweet."

"Mama, I wanna go up there," Maya announces as she tugs on her mother's jacket with one hand and points to the stage with the other. "Can I?"

Glancing down at her daughter, she smiles. "Up on stage?" She raises her brow and her smile playfully grows. "C'mon, then." Santana takes Maya's hand and leads her to the steps at the side of the stage.

Instead of taking the stairs normally, Maya hops from step to step, pulling on Santana's hand every time she lands.

Santana watches her daughter jump and chuckles. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Hop, hop, hop" the girl chants as she bounces to from step to step.

Rachel pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as she watches Santana interact with her daughter. So much time has passed and the woman in front of her is so different from the girl she knew. She can't put her finger on it, exactly; but, it's almost as if Santana figured out how to exist in her own skin. She's not that volatile teenager who was always on the verge of exploding.

It's almost as if she's settled into herself.

Once they get on stage, Santana leads Maya over to Rachel. She allows herself to make eye contact with the other woman and smiles softly, greeting her with a quiet, "Hey."

Rachel presses her lips into a teasing smile and raises her brows. "Hello to you," she says formally. Her attention shifts to the little girl at Santana's side. "And hello to you, too, Maya."

The little girl wrinkles her nose and steps behind her mother.

Santana turns her head to glance down at Maya. "Maya, baby. You're not shy."

"Yes, I am," Maya whispers, peeking out from behind Santana only to find that the woman isn't even looking at her. She's looking at her mother. "Can we go home now, Mama?" the little girl asks plainly.

A bad feeling settles in Santana's stomach. She just knows this isn't going to go well.

There's no doubt that Santana loves her child. There's nothing and there's no one in the world she loves more. But Maya has a stubborn streak that, more often than not, clouds her social judgment.

Maya has never liked meeting new people. Santana believes the little girl would be fine if her entire world consisted of Mama, Daddy, Aunt Holly and George – and an audience. The little girl loves performing and has never shown a fear of crowds; but, one-on-one situations tend to make the girl antsy and, on some occasions, she ventures out of adorably single-minded and into aggravatingly stubborn.

She doesn't blame her daughter. In fact, she knows that much of it is due to how she and Matt have tried to protect her. There are some really weird (and dangerous) people in the world and, being in the public eye, Santana's largest concern is keeping her daughter safe. She's working on helping Maya open up to new people without making the girl think that she should be open to _all_ new people.

Santana looks into her daughter's eyes and says, "Maya, you've met Rachel before. Stop being silly and say hello."

The little girl clutches the back of her mother's jacket but doesn't offer up a greeting.

"It's okay," Rachel says to Santana, not wanting to put the girl on the spot. "She doesn't have to, San." Her eyes widen just a fraction and then she corrects herself, "Santana."

The other woman's breath catches in her throat. That's a nickname she hasn't heard in a long time – and an even longer time coming from Rachel. It takes her by surprise and she blinks owlishly a few times as she realizes that hearing it wasn't the horrible reminder she thought it would be. In fact, it's pleasantly nostalgic and Santana finds herself actually enjoying it.

Tilting her head, she gives Rachel a soft smile. "It's cool. Whichever you prefer is fine with me."

"No," a small voice argues. "Only Daddy and Auntie can call you that." Maya pokes her head out from behind Santana, looks up at Rachel and suggests, "You can say Mrs. Rutherford like George does."

Unsure of what to say, the other woman presses her lips together, her eyes darting to Santana's.

The other woman sighs. Not only has Matt _not _called her that in a long time, but she's actually not unhappy about it. And Holly has, for some reason, taken to calling her _honey_, _sweetie_, and sometimes even _darling._

She turns fully to Maya and crouches down to look into her eyes. "Mija, don't be rude. Mama knows Rachel, okay? We're friends, so if I say she can call me that, then it's okay."

The little girl looks down at her shoes. "Okay, Mama ..."

"Santana," Rachel says softly, not wanting the little girl to get in trouble on her account. "It's fine - she doesn't know me, so ... It's fine, really. I get it."

Maya peeks up at the other woman and then goes back to looking at her feet.

Santana kisses her daughter's cheek before standing up and looking at Rachel, wordlessly indicating that she has her attention again.

"So ..." Rachel doesn't really know what to talk about suddenly, and maybe for the first time in her life, she feels uncomfortable on a stage.

There's the giant elephant in the room, but she's reluctant to bring it up. Any talk of what's going on with the media - and Santana's marriage - is bound to bring them to a discussion of things that, especially for new co-workers, are best left alone.

Santana chuckles nervously. "Since when have we ever been awkward with each other?"

"I'm sure if we go far enough back, we can come up with a few examples," Rachel teases, her eyes glinting under the lights. "Let's talk about now, though," she suggests. "I would have thought you'd be taking a break after your tour. Your show was so high energy and," she pauses to chuckle, "not at all like those small shows you used to do."

Rachel wrinkles her nose cutely and admits. "As much as I like the multitudes of dancers, I kind of miss the smaller venues."

Santana's eyes narrow and she tilts her head at the other woman's confession. Did Rachel just say she had been to her earlier shows? That she sat in a smoky bar or a crowded club – voluntarily – just to hear her perform?

"You saw my earlier shows?"

"Well," Rachel tucks her hair behind her ear. "Your tours always came through the city, so ... you know." She bites her lip nervously. "I may have seen a few."

Of course, she meant to say that she saw nearly every show. The only performance Rachel missed was early on when her understudy was out with the flu and she didn't have the option of taking the evening off.

Santana's mouth falls open slightly. "I can't believe you actually went to my shows." She smiles softly.

"Why not?" Rachel asks, laughing. "It's not like I woke up one day and hated your voice. I always loved listening to you sing, you know that."

Among the woman's favourite vocalists are Barbra Streisand, Celine Dion, Karen Carpenter and Santana Lopez – all talents she learned to appreciate at a young age.

Santana narrows her eyes again, her gaze catching Rachel's. "I loved listening to you sing, too."

"You better," the other woman jokes, her lips twisting into a grin. "You're stuck with me for the few months. And we have a duet."

"I read over it in the script and checked it out online," she says with a nod. "It's a pretty great song."

"I know a song," Maya pipes up.

Santana smiles warmly at her daughter. Leave it to music talk to bring the girl out of her shell. She thinks it might be a sign that Maya is warming up to their new (old) friend.

"Wanna hear it?" Before anyone can answer, she starts singing _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_.

Rachel can't help the smile as she hears the girl's voice ring out over the stage. She only barely keeps herself from giggling when the girl sings, "Up-a bup-a world so high ... "

After singing the same line a few times, Maya trails off. "And that's how my song ends," she says knowingly.

"That was very good," Rachel says, clapping her hands together lightly.

"It really was," she repeats look at Santana. "She might follow in your footsteps. You could probably even get her into a show. Someone's always looking for a kid to sing."

"Oh, uh." Santana closes her mouth and then opens it again, but stops herself from continuing. She doesn't want to get into this discussion at the moment - especially not in front of Maya.

There's no doubt that the little girl can sing. She has a clear voice and she knows how to push a lot of sound out of her small body. Her diction isn't perfect most of that has to do with the fact that she's four years old and she has the vocabulary of a four year old kid – or, according to Matt's mom, an almost four year old rapper. Santana blames Matt's team mates for that.

The little girl has made no secret of her desire to be on stage with her mother. It's a fight before every performance. Maya wants to sing. Santana wants her off stage – away from the cameras, away from the lights, and away from the crowds. If she's not at home, then Santana wants her backstage with her Auntie – safe and protected.

Maya has her whole life ahead of her and Santana decided a long time ago that her little girl _will_ have a childhood.

She's seen first-hand how kids in _the business_ fare when they try to blend in with _normal_ kids. So, Maya will go to school and she will have friends. She will go to prom and tease her date about how scared he was when her mom opened the front door. And she will have the privacy she needs to make her mistakes and learn from them.

Santana has it all planned out. All she has to do is keep Maya out of the spotlight.

A simple shake of her head is all the reply she offers.

Rachel can't say that she understands why the other woman doesn't want to talk about it. Of course, how much can she expect to understand about a person who is more of a stranger than a friend? She decides to leave it alone.

"Mama, can we colour now?"

Santana shakes her head. "We didn't bring your colouring stuff, baby. We'll do some when we get home, okay?" She shifts her attention back to Rachel and asks, "So, is this Blaine any good?"

"He's really good, actually. Exceptional," she answers and tries not to be affected by Maya's pout. When the little girl's frown is too much for her to take she asks, "Do you want me to see if I can find paper and a pen for her?"

Santana nods her head, grateful for Rachel's suggestion. "Yeah, I'm sure she'd like that."

"Sound good?" Rachel asks Maya, offering her a gentle smile.

"No, thank you," the girl declines politely, if not a little formally.

"Okay," Rachel says haltingly. "Um," she frowns. She takes a sip of her coffee to try to hide confusion. She's usually pretty okay with kids. At least she's always thought she was. She focuses on Santana again and tries to get back to their conversation. "So, you were asking about Blaine ..."

The other woman frowns and lets out a small, frustrated breath. "Rach, can you give us a second?"

Without waiting for an answer, she offers the woman a quick smile and then sets her attention to Maya. Taking her hand, she leads the little girl across the stage and crouches down to look into her eyes. "Okay, what's going on, baby?"

The other woman turns away to give her friend – her new friend? Her new old friend? She's really not sure how to classify Santana, but she hopes they'll be friends. And Santana did tell her daughter that they were friends – her friend a chance to talk to her daughter without feeling watched.

"Nothing," Maya answers. Her mother simply raises her brows and the little girl pouts and revises her answer. "I dunno."

"Do you not like Rachel?"

The little girl remains silent.

"Maya, baby, you said you wanted to colour,' Santana reminds the girl. "Why don't you want Rachel to get you some paper if you want to colour?"

When her daughter shrugs in response, she says the girl's name in the way that mom's do – the way that warns their children that they are on thin ice.

"Am I in trouble?" Maya asks, her lips pulling down into a deep frown.

Santana sighs and shakes her head. "No, of course not, honey. But we're going to have to stay here for a while, so if you want to colour … "

"Just us?" Maya interrupts hopefully, her eyes lighting up.

Santana shakes her head, the look in Maya's eyes breaking her heart. She knows she could spend more time with her daughter. And it kind of makes her feel guilty about taking this job so soon after the tour.

"No, honey. Remember? Mama has to work." She cups the girl's cheek.

"But, Mama," Maya whines. Her little mouth falls back into a miserable pout. "It's not fair! It's _my_ turn to sing with you."

"Tell you what," she offers with a tap to Maya's pout. "What about we have a Disney movie sing-a-long after we're done here, huh? You can choose which one we watch and we can sing along to all the songs. Sound good?" Santana asks hopefully.

"Okay!" Maya shouts as she hugs Santana.

Santana lets out a relieved sigh and holds her daughter close to her before whispering into the girl's ear. "Can you do one more thing for Mama?"

Maya nods against her mother's shoulder.

She continues to whisper. "I think maybe Rachel's a little sad, like her feelings are hurt. You're such a good hugger that I think it'd cheer her right up. Whaddaya think?"

"Do I hafta say sorry, too?" the little girl asks seriously.

"Yeah, baby. Think you can do that?" She looks into Maya's eyes.

The little girl rolls her eyes to the side as though considering her options. She finally meets her mom's eyes and nods. "Okay ... "

When Rachel hears the light tapping of shoes on the stage, she turns around. "Everything okay?"

Before the other woman can answer, Maya launches herself at Rachel's legs, squeezes them tightly and softly says, "I'm sorry I wasn't nice."

"Uh," the woman's eyes are wide in surprise and she rests her hand on the little girl's shoulder. It's clear that she's taken by surprise.

Santana smirks at Rachel and says, "It's okay to hug her back. She doesn't bite, I promise."

Rachel chuckles and rolls her eyes as she peels the girl's arms from around her legs. She kneels down so that she's eye-level with the little girl. "Wanna start over?" she asks.

Maya wrinkles her nose in confusion.

"I'm Rachel and I knew your mommy when she was little," she says, putting out her hand.

"Little like me?" Maya asks in amazement.

Rachel shakes her head. "Not that little," she says softly. "But close. What do you think? Wanna be friends?"

The little girl sizes up Rachel, squinting as she studies her face. "Okay," she finally says and takes the woman's hand. After a quick hand shake, Maya reaches out to hug her, again.

This time, Rachel hugs her back.

"Now that's more like it. Can Mama get in this hug, too?" She chuckles and starts walking over to the both of them.

"Yay!" Maya cheers, letting go of Rachel with one arm and reaching out to her mother.

Santana kneels down to wrap one arm around Maya and the other falls around Rachel.

Rachel stiffens for a second and forces herself to give her attention to the little girl's embrace, and not at all on the other arm that is securely around her.

"Well, this doesn't look like the scene of two women in love with the same man," a teasing voice calls out from the opposite side of the stage.

Rachel swallows roughly, a little embarrassed, and looks over her shoulder. "Blaine," she says as she quickly rises. "Um, we were just ... this is ..." She clears her throat nervously. "Santana Lopez, our new Lucy."

Santana furrows her brow at Rachel noting how the other woman looks almost as though she was caught doing something she shouldn't. She stands up and turns to Blaine, smiling softly at him. "Hi. I'm Santana." She holds her hand out for him.

"Yes, you are!" Blaine says, stamping his foot on the stage before taking her hand and shaking it vigorously. "When Art said he had a surprise for us, he meant it. Wow!" He looks at Santana in awe.

Maya squints at him and then asks, "Why's your hair all wet? Did you just get outta the bathtub?"

Rachel's laugh stops Blaine from answering. She waves her hand and says, "I'm sorry. Sorry." She presses her lips together and then, after another giggle, offers another, "sorry."

Blaine smoothes his hands over his hair and gives the little girl his best dapper smile. "It's hair gel, cutie pie." He winks at Maya and says, "Lemme guess, you're the new Emma, right?"

Rachel slaps his shoulder. "You shut your mouth!"

He laughs before blowing her a kiss. "You know I love you, Rachie."

"Don't call me that," she replies as she pretends to pluck his kiss from the air and put it on her cheek.

It's silly and even a little juvenile, as is much of what she has to say about her relationship with Blaine Anderson, but it's a thing they do. After two months of gruelling rehearsals, they were so giddy about their standing ovations at curtain that Rachel kissed Blaine's cheek. It probably wouldn't have mattered had he not insisted on meeting press right from the stage – with bright red lipstick on his cheek.

From that moment on, he's insisted that all kisses be sent airmail.

Santana looks between Rachel and Blaine before pursing her lips together. Her eyes narrow as she tries to figure them out. She knows she has no basis for thinking it, but she has a weird feeling as she watches them that they're together.

Not that it matters. Rachel can be with whomever she wants.

"Her name is Rachel," Maya offers smartly as she points to the woman. "And this is Mama."

Santana smirks and says, "But only Maya is allowed to call me that, so..." She chuckles and adds, "I think we're good sticking with Santana. I'm the new Lucy."

"Well hot da-" Blaine stops and looks down at Maya and then chooses another word, "dog. Hot dog." He chuckles. "Santana Lopez is our new Lucy." His shoulders bounce and he smiles happily. "That's it. I have to buy Art a thank you present."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Do you remember when you told me to tell you when you're being too much?" she asks.

"No," he replies, his brows pushing together. "I never said that."

"You should have," Rachel notes. "I'd be telling you right now.

He rolls his eyes. "Aw, don't be jealous, Rachie." He winks at her and smiles charmingly. "You're still my number one girl."

Santana thinks that maybe it makes sense for Rachel to be with Blaine. They probably spend a lot of time together rehearsing and working. When you spend a lot of time with someone, sometimes things happen.

And Blaine is obviously talented if he's the lead in a Broadway show. Rachel's always been attracted to talent - always. She can even kind of see how he could be charming, you know, if you're into guys who look like they've just had their hair dipped into paint.

Maya tugs on her mother's jacket. "Mama, what's gel?"

Santana quietly jokes, "Something some people use too much of."

"Too much?" Blaine jokes. "No such thing."

Rachel's eyes widen and she pushes her lips together in a thin smile. "There is very much such a thing." She points her thumb to him.

"What? Is it gang up on Blaine day?" he asks, putting on a fake pout.

"Oh, put it away, Blaine," she says, laughing and poking his cheek. "You're a clown and you're showing off for Santana. Don't think I don't know your tricks."

He leans closer to Santana and, pushing his lips to the side he mutters. "Word of advice, don't pull focus. Ms. Berry likes her spotlight."

Santana clenches her jaw. "It's not like she doesn't deserve it. She's an amazing talent." She looks into Blaine's eyes, daring him to argue with her.

"Uh," he laughs nervously, his gaze flitting back and forth between the two women. "Okay. But I was just kidding. Everyone knows that Rach is great. The best even."

Rachel ignores the heat in her cheeks and stares at Santana, not quite sure what to say.

Blaine scratches his ear. "You know, Art's late so I'm just going to go check my messages. See if," he pops his brows up, "You-Know-Who called." He winks at Rachel and then quickly retreats to the other side of the stage, holding his cell to his ear.

"Sorry about Blaine," Rachel says after an awkward moment. "He's kind of a puppy dog, you know? He just kind of crashes into things as he runs around looking for someone to play with."

Santana tries her best not to frown as she looks into Rachel's eyes. "Oh, no. S'fine. She chuckles nervously. "Y'know, I figured you'd end up dating a co-star one day, but I guess I wasn't expecting someone like him."

"Dating?" Rachel echoes, looking at Santana in disbelief. "Blaine?"

He hears his name and looks over his shoulder at the pair. When it seems they weren't calling him over, he returns his attention to his phone.

"He doesn't look like a puppy dog," Maya says in confusion. "His hair isn't even fluffy."

"It's a figure of speech and," Rachel stops explaining what she meant and tilts her head. "What do you mean you figured I'd end up dating a co-star?"

"Oh, I didn't mean that in a bad way. I just - you like talented people." She purses her lips together.

"Oh," Rachel says. "Well, that's true." She nods a few times. "Oh! But, it's not true that we're dating," she adds. "I'm too feminine for his liking."

Santana furrows her brow. "Wait, what?"

Rachel uses her thumb to point at Blaine. "He likes boys," she states, shrugging like it's old news. "And, as much as I love him and I love playing around with him, I could never seriously consider dating someone who uses more product in his hair than I do."

Santana wrinkles her nose in embarrassment. "Oh."

"You know my type, Santana," she says softly. "It hasn't changed."

Maya tugs on her mom's jacket. "Can we get a dog?"

Santana ignores her daughter request, her gaze and soft smile trained on the woman in front of her.

"Is that a yes, Mama?"

The other woman breaks eye contact first and lets her gaze fall on Maya for a moment before she shyly looks back up. There's a nervous pull in her chest but she forces herself to ignore it. She has to. This is Santana Lopez. And Santana is currently married. Even if they are going through a rough patch right now, it doesn't change that fact that she's married - to a man.

Rachel clears her throat and pushes her hair behind her ear. "So, I'm going to text Art and see if he's almost here so we can get started."

Santana frowns slightly at the other woman's statement. She thought Rachel was going to say something else. Or maybe she was just hoping. She supposes that it's for the best that she doesn't. It would be a long, complex discussion and one that would be best when her daughter isn't in the room.

She clears her throat and offers, "It's probably traffic."

"That's what he'll say," Rachel jokes. "I'll just be a second," she points to the wings where she left her bag. Without waiting for a reply, she swiftly crosses the stage.

"Can I pick the puppy's name?" Maya asks, her eyes lit up with excitement.

Santana sighs and picks up Maya. "Baby, we're not getting a puppy."

"But you didn't say no," the little girl argues.

"I didn't say yes either, did I?" Santana plays with one of her curls.

Maya pouts. "You almost said yes."

Santana chuckles and kisses her cheek. "You know I didn't, baby girl."

Rachel walks back onto the stage and calls out loud enough for Blaine and Santana to hear. "I just talked to Artie. He wants us to go over the staging for each of our first numbers with Santana. He should be here soon."

Maya rests her head on her mother's shoulder. "You gotta work now?"

She nods her head and rests her chin on Maya's head gently. "Yeah, baby girl. Are you tired? Why don't you take a nap across those nice, comfy chairs?"

"'kay," the little girl says softly.

Blaine watches Santana settle her daughter. "So, I'm up first. Go sit, Rachel. Learn from the master."

The other woman rolls her eyes and heads down the steps to the house. "How long is your first number?" she asks Blaine.

"About six minutes including lead in, why?"

"Save a few seats for me, San," she calls out. "I might end up napping for about six minutes, too."


	5. Chapter 5

Holly settles on the couch with her glass of wine and looks at Santana expectantly. "So," she begins, a smirk settling onto her lips. "My ridiculously expensive shoes are off, I'm sitting, _and_ I have my wine. I believe I'm prepared to receive your gratitude now."

Santana chuckles as she sits down beside her. "Uh, what now?" She narrows her eyes and shakes her head before taking a sip from her glass.

"Oh, come on!" Holly whines. "You did _not _call me over here to tell me that you hate it, did you? And if you did, you better have something stronger than wine to take away the sting."

The other woman chuckles again, the light laughter making her shoulders raise. "Of course not. I actually really love the show." Her eyes meet Holly's and she sincerely adds, "I'm glad you gave me that little push to do it. Y'know, I wasn't sure about taking on something so soon after the tour, but I'm glad I did."

"Of course you are." Her friend looks over the rim of the wine glass as she takes a sip. She pulls the glass away to ask, "So, what did you _need_ to talk to me about, then? Not the show and not the wine because, honey, this may be the best you've ever offered."

"No, not the wine."

Santana lets out a nervous breath. She had been working up the courage to talk to Holly all day. She's not intimidated by Holly or really even all that worried about what her friend will think. It's just that she's never really told anyone about this before. And even though she knows Holly won't judge her, she can't help but be nervous.

"Okay, so - I kinda have a confession to make." Before her friend can say anything, Santana holds out her hand. "Now don't go thinking the worst. I just - I just thought that, as my manager, you should to know."

The other woman slowly and very carefully sets her glass down, not trusting herself to not spill it on her friend's carpet. "Okay ..." she says warily, her mind already running through scenarios and spin methods.

"So, you know Rachel, right? The actress playing Emma?" Santana pauses, waiting for an answer, and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Yeah, she's so great, isn't she?' Holly asks, relaxing now that her fears Santana was about to reveal an affair while with she was with Matt are allayed.

She nods her head. "She really is." Santana smiles softly before continuing. "So - I kinda already knew her before this gig. Even before she came to my show."

"Wait," Holly holds up her hand. She then proceeds to move a few of the throw pillows around on the couch to get more comfortable. Once she's settled, she points to her friend and says, "okay, story time. Go. "

Santana pulls her feet up onto the couch. "Oh, s'not like a big story or anything. We uh, y'know." She clears her throat. "We had a thing in high school."

"A thing? What kind of a thing? Like a rivalry thing or something?" Holly asks. Her eyes get big. "Did you steal her boyfriend? Oh, tell me you stole her boyfriend." She leans back against a pillow and adds, "God, I love story time."

Santana rolls her eyes. "No, I didn't steal her boyfriend." She inhales deeply, steeling herself. "By thing, I actually meant, y'know, a _thing_. A _we were kinda a little bit together_ thing."

The other woman laughs suddenly but, when Santana doesn't join in, her laughter dies down to muffled giggles. And then her friend doesn't take the comment back, and the annoyed look on her face makes it clear she isn't joking.

Holly blows out a breath and soberly says, "Oh, shit, are you serious?"

"Hundred per cent." A thought strikes Santana, making her brows push together and her bottom lip jut out into a pout. "And why're you laughing? It's not funny."

"I just," Holly shakes her head. "I wasn't expecting that, I guess." She reaches over and grabs her glass, gulping down a mouthful of wine. "This is wild," she says. She's about to see if she can manage to sip this time but she lowers the glass instead and, eyes lit up with mischief, asks, "Wait. How wild?"

Santana rolls her eyes and tries to ignore the heat she feels in her cheeks. "I'm not giving you details, Holly."

"Wild enough that there _are_ details," the other woman comments to herself. She raises her glass as though toasting. "Noted. And you're telling me this now because ..."

"Because," she forces herself to meet Holly's gaze, "you've managed to set me up with her twice. And, okay, you were kinda just using her for good publicity at first." She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. "I don't even know if any of this even matters, but I just don't want anyone digging up the past."

Holly studies her friend for a moment, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes as she drags her finger over the rim of the wine glass. "What is there, exactly, to dig up?" she finally asks.

She raises her brows and suggests, "Yearbooks with the both of you in them? Your names on some Hall of Fame plaque? Or ... " Holly presses her lips together before asking, "Is there some kind of evidence you're worried might show up? Pictures? Video? Love letters?"

She pulls her legs up and crosses them on the couch, having turned to face Santana more fully. "Was it a love letter kind of thing or a hook up kind of thing?"

Santana frowns and says, "Look, I'm not saying there _is _anything to dig up. I'm just - I thought I'd warn you. Just in case or something. Give you a heads up."

"You know I'm going to spin it, right?" Holly asks, her mind already coming up with sound bites for gossip rags. "Not the part about you two bed bouncing or whatever it was but that you knew each other. That's spin-worthy and we should use it."

She furrows her brow. "You want to tell people I knew Rachel in high school?"

"I don't, no. But I think someone else should write an anonymous comment under a photo of you two on BizBuzz or something," Holly says nonchalantly. "Maybe post a picture on tumblr or something with your yearbook pictures ..."

If there is anything Holly is good at, besides making a killer appletini, it's starting a buzz. Her ability to leak information without it being traced back to Santana is almost government intelligence level.

"So, you want high school pictures, then?"

"Oh, don't you worry. I can get them. Easy peasy," the other woman says, snapping her fingers. "This is really good, actually. Everyone likes a girl power story - finding comfort in an old friend? This could work." She nods a few times to herself and adds, "It could actually be really good."

"You sound more excited than I am." The other woman shakes her head before taking a sip of her drink.

"I'm not saying that you have to actually hang out with her. Not if you don't want to," Holly says. "Just let me - or an anonymous web user - make the connection on a photo that's already been taken and will probably be posted on a bazillion blogs when we formally announce the date of your opening night in the show."

Santana purses her lips together. "I probably have some old yearbooks and pictures somewhere. You know, if I looked around."

Knowing that she can come up with the resources she needs, Holly gives her friend a simple, "Cool." That's not what she's interested in right now. She leans back and stretches her legs, pushing her toes into her friend's thigh. "So, what was it? Truth or Dare? Spin the Bottle?"

The other woman squints in confusion.

"How your _thing_ with Rachel started," Holly prompts her friend.

"Oh, uh … " Santana bites her lip and hesitates before answering the question.

She's pretty sure Holly won't understand their story - especially not with what she knows of Rachel now.

Rachel Now would stupefy Rachel Then. No, Rachel Then wouldn't be surprised to find that she'd achieved her dream of lending her star to light up the Great White Way. But she might be tickled to see how sophisticated and even elegant Rachel Now can be. She'd probably point at Rachel Now in shock of how gracefully she is able to navigate the waters of social interaction.

That wasn't a forte for Rachel Then.

It wasn't her fault. Her talent afforded her a lot of opportunities that other kids didn't have: regular trips to the city, performing on a stage, and even rubbing elbows with celebrities. In order to take advantage of those opportunities, though, Rachel had to make some concessions.

Not going to school or adhering to public school schedules was the first. She'd enjoyed a couple of years of public school education and the social interaction it offered. But, come fourth grade, Rachel's performance schedule kept her in the city and relying on a stage tutor for her lessons.

The majority of the girls she used to play with at school made other friends and seemed to forget about her pretty quickly. Even the girls who were in her dance classes moved on – it was like her absence took away her very existence. When she saw these girls at the playground during her breaks, they looked at her with curious and critical eyes, like she was a new girl.

But she wasn't. She was still the Rachel - sweet, friendly and open (almost to a fault).

Except she was also Rachel who sings and dances in front of paying audiences. She was Rachel who had grown-ups for friends. Why wouldn't she? They were the people she saw the most – her fellow stage actors, her director, the people in wardrobe. She was Rachel who was on her way to being a star.

Her dads did their best to keep her young. They cultivated her love for the fantastic and nurtured her dreams. But it didn't erase that the people she spent her time with were three times her age (if not more).

Except for one.

Santana Lopez, a skinny little girl with long hair and chronically scraped knees, lived just a few houses away. She never treated Rachel like she was different – not because her parents taught her at home, not because she was living her dream at age eleven and never because she had two men for parents.

When other kids were making fun of her for using words to big for them to understand, when girls she used to play with sneered at her clothes, her hair or whatever they could latch onto that day, or when everyone decided to ignore her and pretend she was invisible, she would simply seek out Santana and she knew she still had a friend.

They were an odd pair. For every ten-point word Rachel knew, Santana knew one that would have certainly had the girl sent to her room until her Mama called her down for supper. Thanks to years of dance lessons, Rachel was graceful on her feet. Her best friend, on the other hand, had more bruises and scrapes on her elbows and knees than any kid had any right to. Santana argued that it wasn't her fault that the best places to hang out had to be climbed to (the tree house her Papa built, the top of the detached garage and Rachel's room, when entered from outside as often it was).

For everything Rachel was, Santana was opposite just enough to balance the other girl. Where Rachel was open, her friend seemed to know when to play it close to the vest. Rachel rarely blinked an eye when someone acted offended at her brand of honesty – she had the hardest time understanding why people didn't just say what was on their minds. The other was never accused of not taking the hint, unlike Rachel, or missing a social cue. It was clear that when Santana offended someone, it was because she meant to.

Truth be told, Rachel's personality was both amazing and terrifying to her friend. How the other girl was able to be so mature and still so innocent was something Santana couldn't understand. But what really confounded her was Rachel's complete disregard for what other people thought of her (barring critics and directors, of course).

And that made Rachel special. And it made Santana want to learn how to master that trick, too. She asked the other girl and Rachel simply said "I don't need them to tell me I'm special. I know I am. Just like I know you are."

Rachel was open about everything – what she thought about other people, what she felt about a song or a show, what she liked about someone she knew and, above all, how much she adored Santana and the friendship she'd come to think of as one of the most reliable constants in her life.

Rachel didn't even mind if sometimes, because of her own specialness, their friendship had to take a backseat. If there was one thing Rachel was sure of – she was special. She didn't need anyone else to tell her. It was something she just knew about herself from the moment she understood what special meant.

Her best friend, on the other hand, always seemed to be looking for someone's approval – her mom, her dad, definitely her abuela and, more often than not, the girls at the top of the social ladder. Rachel consistently gave her friend signs of approval, but it never seemed to make up for what Santana sought and never seemed to get.

When it only scratched the surface of making Santana believe that she was an amazing, beautiful, talented, _special_ person, the other girl took a step back. She didn't expect Santana to feel like she could shine brightly while in such close proximity to Rachel's star. Her friend needed to shine on her own, away from the giant shadow that Rachel cast over her.

Santana stepped out of the shadow and their friendship found a new home there. It was the least Rachel could do for the girl whose loyalty never wavered and who never once tried to change her.

She adored Santana for letting her use big words and for letting her wear her favourite polka-dotted dress and Mary Janes. She adored her for listening to her recite lines and for acting as though she actually cared about the shows she'd never see Rachel perform. She adored the way Santana's eyes would grow wide when she would sing for her in the basement. She adored the way the other girl laughed, her hands clutched over her flat tummy and her eyes closed tightly, as though she was trying to keep her laughter from just exploding out of her body.

Rachel could never list the ways she adored Santana because every day she discovered something new to adore.

That didn't mean she didn't try. Her habit of complimenting Santana began quite early in their friendship. There was little Rachel didn't find endearing about her friend. Compliments about everything from the girl's penmanship to her hair flowed easily from Rachel's tongue. Having never suffered even a moment of real shyness, it never occurred to her _not_ to take every opportunity to let Santana know how special she was to her.

_"Okay," Rachel says as she sets a glass in front of her friend. "One iced tea for the prettiest girl I know." She smiles brightly and sits on the couch next to Santana. _

_"Thanks, Rach." Santana picks up the glass but doesn't drink from it. Instead, she swipes her finger across the rim. "You kinda do that a lot, you know?" _

_She gazes nervously into Rachel's eyes. She should be used to the other girl complimenting her by now, but, it still makes her nervous. It makes her heart race, and her stomach do that weird, butterfly thing._

_"Bring you iced tea?" _

"_No," Santana says with a soft chuckle. "Say nice things - compliment me, I mean." _

_"Why shouldn't I?" the other girl asks innocently."I like you." _

_This was the opportunity Santana had been waiting for – and maybe dreading at the same time. _

_Rachel had been saying that a lot lately - that she liked her. And the more she said it, the more Santana wondered if the other girl might have feelings for her. Real feelings. Of the romantic kind._

_Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. _

_"Rachel," she begins, looking nervously into the other girl's eyes, "What's that mean? That you like me?"_

_Rachel tilts her head, not sure what part of 'I like you' her friend doesn't understand._

_"I mean that I like you," she repeats honestly. "I like being with you. And when you're not here, I think about you being here. Or when I'm away, I sometimes think about you coming to visit me in the city. And sometimes I think about kissing you, but most of the time I just think about being with you," she explains plainly. _

_Santana's breath hitches at her friend's words. It makes her chest tighten at how easy it is for Rachel to simply say what she feels. She envies it. _

_She swallows roughly and nods as her heart pounds so hard in her chest that she can feel it pulsing in her ears. It takes her a few seconds to whisper back, "Me too."_

_"I know," Rachel says, her bright smile never faltering. "But I don't expect you to compliment me all the time," she adds. "Unless I've just sung. Then it would be practically unheard of for me not to get some sort of praise." _

_Santana shakes her head and chuckles. "I don't know how you do it." _

_"I've had a lot of experience, actually. And an excellent vocal coach," Rachel informs her friend. "You're also a very talented singer. Sure, you lack my training but even without it, you could be quite a force to be reckoned with. But I don't want to talk about that right now. I'd rather talk about us liking each other." She hops in her seat, her eyes lighting up. "Do you want to be my girlfriend?"_

_Santana can't contain her smile. She tilts her head to the side and lets herself appreciate Rachel's cuteness. _

_It doesn't take long for that to pass and for fear to kick in. She nervously catches her bottom lip between her teeth before answering, "I ..." She swallows roughly and inhales sharply. "I don't know about that, Rach." _

_"Well," Rachel begins thoughtfully. "I haven't had a girlfriend before. Or been anyone's girlfriend," she says. "But I suspect I'd be a superb one. I've seen every Meg Ryan, Julia Roberts and Sandra Bullock movie. So, I've learned from the best about how to proceed in romantic situations." _

_The smile is back because leave it to Rachel to think that romantic comedies are a how-to dating guide. Santana carefully takes Rachel's hand and gently says, "I'm sure you'd be great." _

_"If I'm not, you could break up with me, I guess," the smaller girl offers. "That's usually when someone learns a big lesson, makes a grand gesture and gets the love of their life back. So, it would most likely be a temporary break-up, anyway." _

_Rachel pauses and presses her lips together. "You wouldn't let distance keep us apart, would you? Because I might be doing a workshop this summer in the city." _

_Santana blinks a couple times, unsure of how to answer her friend's question. Any answer would imply that she's on board with Rachel's crazy idea for them to become girlfriends. That's not what Santana had in mind. Or maybe it would be if she didn't know better - if she was Rachel and lived in a world where these things were okay._

_"Rachel, it's - " She lets out a shaky breath. "It's kind of a lot to take in and, it's more than a little scary ..."_

_"Why?" Rachel wrinkles her nose cutely, her head tilting in confusion as she searches Santana's eyes._

_"Because, " she starts with a frown. "Because it isn't right. I mean, that's what everyone else will think." _

_Rachel pouts and looks down at her hand in Santana's. "It feels right to me." _

_Santana nods. "I know it does. For me, too." _

_"Are you scared that I'll hurt you?" the other girl asks. "Because I would _never _do that. You're my best friend. And, besides my dads, you're the most important person in my life. I'd never hurt you, I promise." _

_Santana shakes her head and smiles softly. "No, I'm not scared of that. I trust you, Rach."_

_The other girl's smile widens again. "Okay, well," she straightens her back. "Then we should be girlfriends," she says, punctuating her statement with a firm nod. _

_"What about everyone else? The school? My parents?" She looks into her friend's eyes. _

_"What about them? Why does it have to be their business what we do? We're not hurting anyone." _

_"Because it's just how things are, Rach. Everyone will make it their business. And if the whole school knows, my parents will eventually find out..." She frowns deeply and looks away._

_"We've made it through this far, Santana," Rachel says gently. "No one even knows that we're friends, right?"_

_She glances at their hands. "What are you saying? That you'd be okay with this," she gestures vaguely in the air between them with her free hand, "that _we _can be a secret?" _

_"For now, I guess," the other girl answers. " I certainly don't want to get married in secret or anything. Raise our kids in shadow ..." she trails off with a teasing giggle. _

_Santana's eyes widen. "Oh wow, marriage and kids, huh?" She chuckles nervously. _

_Rachel nods. "Some day." She tightens her grip on Santana's hand and says, "But not for a while. There's a lot we have to accomplish first." _

_She nods along with her. "Yeah, definitely." _

_"I don't think we can officially be girlfriends until we kiss," the other girl informs Santana. "That's how it goes in the movies. They have feelings for each other the whole time but it's not until they kiss that they are considered officially together." _

_Santana smiles shyly and glances down, before taking a deep breath and looking up into Rachel's eyes. "Do you wa – should I kiss you? Or do you want to kiss me?" _

_"We could kiss each other," Rachel offers. "Fifty, fifty. Don't do the _Hitch _thing where you go ninety and then wait for my ten. Fifty, fifty is nice and equal and I didn't really like that movie very much, anyway." _

"_Okay," the other girl whispers and inhales deeply, steeling herself for what she's about to do. With her eyes closed, she slowly leans forward._

_Meeting her halfway, Rachel puts her hand on her soon-to-be-official-girlfriend's shoulder and closes her eyes. Her lips curl at the corner after they brush against Santana's for the first time. Keeping her eyes closed, she rests her forehead against the other girl's, a content smile on her face._

_Santana opens her eyes just long enough to check the reality of the situation. Her eyes slip closed again and it isn't long before her other hand cups Rachel's face and she's leaning in again to softly press her lips to the other girl's. _

_Rachel leans back minutely only to move forward not even a half of a second later to leave lingering kisses, accented with small pecks, against Santana's mouth. When she pulls away long enough to say something, she admits, "I've been thinking about doing that for a long time. Only it's even nicer than I thought it would be ... "_

_Santana keeps her hand on Rachel's cheek and strokes it with her thumb. "Me too." She doesn't wait for Rachel to respond. Instead, she leans in again and captures Rachel's bottom lip between her own. _

"...you know what..?" Santana looks into Holly's eyes. "I don't even remember how it started. I told you, it really didn't mean anything." She gives Holly as much of a smile as she can muster before sipping her drink again.


	6. Chapter 6

"Holly, I love you. You know that. But you have _got_ to figure out a way to get them off my back." Santana holds her cell phone to her ear as she walks into the theatre. With a furrowed brow and deep scowl she asks, "What if I had Maya with me?"

From her seat in the front row, Rachel hears the door and, turning, she frowns when she sees the look on the other woman's face.

"Yeah, I know." It's quiet for a second before Santana continues, "I'll pick Maya up once I'm finished, okay? Thanks for looking after her."

Though it's none of her business – she knows that it's not – Rachel is curious to know what was said to make that soft smile appear on Santana's previously angry face. She forces her attention back to the stage and does her best not to eavesdrop on the half of the conversation she can hear.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, I gotta go. See you after rehearsal. Bye." As Santana reaches the front row, she hangs up and notices that she's not alone in the auditorium. "Oh, hey."

"Hey," Rachel greets her. "Everything okay?"

Santana sighs and shakes her head as she sits down beside Rachel. "Fucking paparazzi…"

"Oh." The other woman frowns and hands Santana a bottle of water.

As of yet, Rachel had been very good about not asking about what was going on with the paparazzi - or with the situation that sparked the hurricane of media attention. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious, but she also knew that the private details of Santana's life weren't her business. If the woman offered it up, she'd listen; but, she wasn't about to open a door that, more likely than not, should remain closed.

"Do you want me to see if Arthur can beef up security? I'm sure he wouldn't mind doing it for a little while. At least until all of this dies down," Rachel suggests softly.

Santana shakes her head. "No, it's - it's fine. I've already talked to Holly about it. She'll deal with it." By the way Rachel worded her sentence, it's obvious to Santana that the other woman knows why she is suddenly the focus of so much media attention.

She bites her lip thoughtfully and asks, "Guess you know what's going on, huh?"

Rachel shakes her head. "I don't claim to know anything based on what the media says about anyone." Her brows furrow as she speaks, her eyes not meeting Santana's. "It's all about blame and who's right and who's wrong. Someone gets vilified and someone is practically canonized. And all of the judgment that goes with it when it's really no one's business ... "

Santana nods in understanding. "Well, yeah. But, uh, " she pauses and glances down, her lips pressed into a frown, "You obviously know something happened."

"Obviously," Rachel agrees. She turns her head and squints into Santana's eyes as she asks, "Is this something we're allowed to talk about? I'm not really sure what's off-limits or out of bounds or … whatever."

She shrugs. "You're my friend - right?"

"I'd like to be."

Santana swallows and nods softly. "We're uh ..." she pauses to let out a long breath. "Matt and I are - we're getting a divorce."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Rachel says and winces sympathetically. "I understand how hard it is when someone you love does something that makes it impossible to be together." She looks down at her lap where her fingers are twisting together.

Santana furrows her brow and tilts her head as she considers Rachel's words. Her brows push up toward her hairline as she gets a sneaking suspicion that the other woman is referring to their time together in high school.

"What does that mean? Are you – was that about me? About us?"

Rachel inhales sharply and quickly shakes her head. "You? Us?" she tries to laugh it off. "No, no. I wouldn't - I didn't mean ..." She splutters a few times before taking a deep breath. "It's not important, anyway."

She sits quietly for a moment, not allowing herself to look in Santana's direction. "So, do you love him? I mean, still? Do you love him even with all of this stuff?"

Santana purses her lips and stares in front of her, not able to look at Rachel. She knows she has a choice. She can either push Rachel to talk about what she's sure neither of them wants to address or she can let it go. The latter was never a strong suit for Santana. In the interest of keeping a peaceful work environment and with the hopes of not completely extinguishing her as of yet rekindled friendship with Rachel, she gives in to the other woman the subject change.

"He's my husband. I wouldn't have married him if I didn't love him," she states almost stubbornly.

Rachel nods. "No, of course you wouldn't," she says softly. "I really am sorry he hurt you. If there's something I can do - though I don't know what. I'm not really a media darling or a very large draw for the paparazzi ..."

"S'whatever." Santana shrugs before admitting, "It's Maya I'm worried about, you know?"

"Does she know?"

Santana glances down and shakes her head. "We're waiting for Matt to get the chance to fly in so we can tell her together. But," she pauses, blinking as she frowns. "I mean, it's in every magazine. It's not easy keeping her away from that."

"The good thing about little kids, " Rachel begins, smiling gently, "is their amazing resilience. If he's coming out to talk to her, then it's clear you're not letting this get in the way of their relationship. I don't know about these things, really, but it seems to me knowing that her parents love her that much is going to be so very helpful."

"I'd never take Maya away from her father. But, I mean, I did ask for full custody - not to keep her away from him. It just seemed the best thing to do." Santana tugs her lip between her teeth and allows her gaze to settle on Rachel's.

Rachel nods. "Well, really, who wants their kid around Sugar Motta?" The woman grimaces and wrinkles her nose as though there is an unpleasant odor in the room. Any chance of pretending that she doesn't know what the media is saying flies out the window with the mention of Santana's husband's mistress.

Santana chuckles weakly. "Yeah…"

"I'm sorry this is happening to you," Rachel finally says after a moment of silence. "And Maya."

"Thanks. I guess I just need time to figure out what to do next, you know?"

The other woman pats Santana's hand. "You'll figure it out. You were always really good at figuring out what you needed to do." She gives her a little smile before looking away.

And just like that, the thing she thought she could let go comes back. Bigger - and with a giant neon sign pointing at it.

Santana frowns and leans forward to look into Rachel's eyes. "What's that supposed to mean, exactly?"

Rachel laughs nervously. "I didn't mean anything bad, Santana," she says. "I just meant that you were always good at reading situations and finding the path of least resistance. And, in this case with Maya, it's a really good thing."

She tilts her head, pinning Rachel with her stare. "And when exactly has it ever been a bad thing?"

"I didn't say it was a bad thing ..." Rachel shakes her head and sighs. "You know what? I don't want to argue with you, okay? Just forget it."

"Look, I get it, okay? You're still upset or whatever about what went down in high school." Santana takes a quick breath before she continues, "But you shouldn't be. It didn't really mean anything, right?"

Rachel scoffs. "I'm not _still_ upset about high school. We were kids, Santana." She frowns and looks away, not willing to look into the other woman's eyes. While she's sure she's over what happened between them, that doesn't make it sting any less to hear the other woman reiterate what Rachel already knew – that it didn't mean anything to Santana.

"Well, it kinda sounds like you are."

"Well, I'm not."

"Right, because that's not an answer my daughter would give or anything." She rolls her eyes, saying, "You sound like a child, Rachel."

The other woman lets out an exasperated sigh.

"We were _kids_, Santana," she says. "And I was sheltered and thought the world was perfect and people were always good. I obviously had a lot to learn about friendship and all it entailed."

She shakes her head and opens her bottled water. Before she takes a sip, "I've grown up since then and have learned otherwise."

"I did what I had to do."

Santana isn't sure why it's important to say it, but it is. It's important for Rachel to get that much – that she was only doing what she had to do. She can't give the other woman more than that so she turns her attention to the empty stage. It's a better option than letting Rachel's eyes meet hers. She's certain that they'd give her away.

"What does that even mean?" Rachel asks, narrowing her eyes in confusion. "You did what you had to do? You didn't_ have _to do anything. You could have just said 'thanks, but no thanks' and let us go back to being best friends. I would have understood."

Except Santana couldn't do that. Maybe it would have been easy for Rachel to slip back into their old roles but it wasn't for her. She'd open a door she shouldn't have and it wasn't enough to simply shut it, again. She had to tear down the whole house.

Literally.

_From where her father stands in the kitchen, his shirt sleeves rolled up and elbow-deep in dishwashing suds, Santana's father bops his head to the beat of the pop music blaring from the kitchen radio. He was never one who believed that not knowing the words should hinder his desire to sing along. _

_In a soft baritone, he hums and _doot do_s his way through the latest Kelly Clarkson single. _

_With a soft sigh, Santana walks into the kitchen, the bowl of ice cream she was eating still half full. It really wasn't like her not to polish off every drop in the bowl. Ice cream was the only snack she allowed herself, what with Sue having put all the Cheerios on a strict diet._

Slowing walking over to where her father waits, his hands hidden in the soapy water, Santana places the bowl down on the counter. "One more," she says with a frown. "I'm not hungry."

_"But it's ice cream, angel," he argues pleasantly. "It doesn't even take up any belly room." He nudges the bowl with a soapy finger. "Sure you don't want to finish it?" _

_Santana shakes her head and leans against the counter, her eyes drifting to the kitchen window. From where she's standing, she can see the tree house her father built in the garden. It's old and could use a coat of paint, but it's still sturdy. _

_She blinks a few times, not able to look at the old house without thinking of the times she spent in it with her best friend … with her girlfriend … with Rachel. She swallows roughly and glances at her father._

_ "I don't want it, anymore." _

_"If you're sure." Her father takes the bowl and, with another quick glance at Santana, raises his brows to double-check her answer. _

_She offers him a sad smile and another shake of her head. Her eyes flick to the window and then back to her father. "Papa?" _

_"Yes, my darling daughter who must be ill if she's turning down ice cream?" he replies. Though he wears a teasing smirk, the one Santana has adopted as her own, his eyes are soft with concern. _

_Santana's absolutely not in the mood for being teased – in good natured or any other way - and she feels like her father should have recognized that. _

_Rolling her eyes, she stubbornly notes. "I didn't mean the ice cream."_

_Her father's eyes widen as he looks into the side of the sink he's using to rinse the dishes and he sees a blob of melting ice cream making its way to the drain. "Angel … you said… " _

_"No, I don't want the stupid ice cream. But," Santana pauses her explanation and blinks a few times, steeling herself. "If you're not doing anything tomorrow afternoon, I'd like you to take down the tree house? I don't need it anymore." _

_The plate her father was scrubbing slips from his fingers and bangs against the bottom of the sink. He frowns as he picks it up to check for cracks and asks, "Tear it down? What do you mean tear it down?" _

_Santana tries to keep her expression neutral as she shrugs. "Tree houses are for kids. And I'm not a kid anymore, Papa."_

_"Well, no, but," he lowers the plate into the soapy water and turns off the faucet. As he dries his hands, he continues, "You weren't a kid last week when you and Rachel were reading the magazines you stole – borrowed - from Mami's table." _

_Santana frowns at her father and looks into his eyes as she crosses her arms in front of her. "Yeah, well, I can see that now. And I don't want it anymore. Can you please tear it down?" _

_Her father's eyes search hers for a long moment before he hesitantly asks, "Okay, what's going on? Did something happen with Rachel?" _

_Santana's expression changes instantly at her father's words. "Why would something have happened with Rachel? She has nothing to do with it." She narrows her eyes, still frowning, and lets out a little scoff. "Tree houses are childish and I'm not a child anymore. I don't need it. That's all." _

_"Okay, I get that," he says, putting his hands up in front of him. "But, childish as it might seem right now, it's also where you two spend nearly every waking moment. Does Rachel know you want to get rid of it?" _

_"It's _mine_, Papa. If _Rachel_ wants to spend her life in a tree house, then her fathers can build her one." She looks away from father, not giving him a chance to see in her eyes everything that she's not saying. _

_"I guess," he slowly agrees._

_He narrows his eyes as he studies his daughter. Her refusal to meet his eyes doesn't go unnoticed. _

_"But, you know," he tries again. "Rachel doesn't get to be a kid all that often, right? And sure, I guess her dads could make her a tree house. But c'mon." His voice is soft and teasing as he says, "Could it ever compare to the masterpiece created by these hands?" He holds up his hands, his fingers a little wrinkled from washing the dishes._

_Having had enough of the conversation, Santana shakes her head, crosses her arms over her chest and tries to tell herself that this isn't about Rachel. She takes a deep breath and looks at her father seriously before reiterating, "I just - _please_, take it down …" _

_After a deep sigh, he agrees. "After I finish up in here, I'll see about getting the waste bins ordered and look for my demo stuff out of the garage." He pulls her into a hug and, after kissing the top of her head, he asks, "You wanna go say goodbye to the old place, angel?" _

_Santana lets out a shaky breath as she holds onto her father and shakes her head. "I've already said my goodbye."_

Rachel heaves a sigh, takes a calming breath and continues, "Look, it doesn't matter. It's ancient history." She caps her water bottle with an air of finality. "It doesn't have to affect our working relationship or, you know, if you need a friend. It's the past, right? No big deal. Moved on. Didn't matter. All of that stuff." The more she talks, the more it sounds like she's talking herself into believing her own words.

Santana glances at Rachel and reminds her, "I know you, Rach." She forces her eyes to the stage in front of her. "When you're nervous, you babble - "

"You _knew_ me," Rachel quickly corrects her. "You don't know me now."

"Seems to me that you haven't really changed that much."

"It'd be very sad it I didn't." Rachel sets her water on the floor next to her bag, her tone distanced and cold. "I'd like to think I know a little more than that naïve little home-schooled girl with a crush on her best friend."

"I'm sorry." Santana takes a deep breath and sighs before turning to face her friend. "I just - I'm in a bad mood and took it out on you."

"It's fine." Rachel says dismissively, her hand waving vaguely as though brushing something away. "It's fine. Don't worry about it," she adds, pursing her lips and staring straight ahead to the stage.

Santana tilts her head as she looks at Rachel. "Rach …"

"It's fine." the other woman repeats firmly and evenly.

"I - " Santana swallows roughly. " – just – I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Rachel replies. She picks up her water bottle as she stands and looks into Santana's eyes. "It didn't mean anything, right?"


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N_:  
_  
Good things have been going on for my RP partner - and that means that there's less time for us to work on this together. Asking for patience as I get edits together for approval and all of that good stuff. Work schedules on their own are tough but then you add in an eight hour time difference and - you get it. Thanks to all who have been patient thus far. _

_Also. We know you want some real meat to sink your teeth into. We get it. But we've got a story here that we want to tell and that might mean a little bit of character or relationship exploration before much action. We'll get there; I promise. _

* * *

Santana rubs Maya's back and kisses the side of her head. The little girl rests her head against her mother's lap, a small frown pulling at the corners of her mouth, as she tries to pay attention to _Up!_ Looking with worried eyes at her daughter, Santana asks, "Did the medicine make you feel any better, baby girl?"

Using the least amount of energy necessary, the little girl just barely shakes her head before trying to snuggle even closer to her mother. "My belly hurts. It's like this ..." She holds up one hand like a claw and moves her fingers around, "Errrr."

Santana frowns and clicks her tongue. "Oh, my poor little munchkin." She runs her fingers softly through Maya's hair, every so often stopping to roll a curl around her finger.

"I'm not gonna throw up," the girl says sagely. "I'm too hungry for that. And it's icky." Just as Maya pulls a grimace, scrunching up her nose and sticking out her tongue, a shrill ring tone cuts through the apartment.

"Well, just in case, okay? Let me know if you're gonna be sick." Santana pats Maya's shoulder, letting her know that she needs to get up. After a kiss to the little girl's forehead, Santana leans over and picks up her cell phone from the coffee table.

She blinks a few times when she sees the name on the screen and then takes a deep breath just before hitting the _accept_ _call _button. "Hey."

Rachel sputters for a moment, having not expected Santana to pick up right away. She was much more nervous about making this phone call than she should have been. She reminds herself that she's had this very same phone call with Blaine and that it's completely acceptable for colleagues to talk on the phone during non-work hours.

"Uh, hey. I'm - it's Rachel."

Santana purses her lips together. "Yeah, I uh - I know. Artie gave me your number and, y'know, caller ID and all that jazz."

"Oh, right - okay," the other woman says before clearing her throat. "Well, I was just calling because we have that spot coming up and I don't know if, while sharing with you my contact information, Art happened to tell you what it is _exactly_ he wants us to say."

Maya looks up and whispers, "Can I have some crackers? Or some ice cream? Oh! Or jelly beans?"

Pressing her hand between the phone and her mouth, Santana whispers, "No candy."

"… and, as you'll probably learn, when you work for a long running staged show, there are specific points that directors want put out at different times to entice a prospective audience …"

Santana winces as she realizes that she has no idea what Rachel is rattling on about. Holding up her finger to her lips, she tries to indicate to Maya to be quiet for a minute while she's on the phone.

"Sorry, Rachel. What did you say?"

Maya climbs onto Santana's lap and whines softly, "But m'hungry, mama."

Rachel bites her lip when she hears Santana shush the little girl. "I called at a bad time, didn't I? Do you want me to let you go?"

"No, it's fine, Rachel. I'm a mother; I can multi-task. Now, what's going on?" When her daughter gives her puppy eyes, she sighs into the phone and says, "Wait. Just – hang on a sec."

"Oh, you poor, neglected child." She runs her fingers through Maya's hair as she smiles softly at her. "What do you want to eat?"

"Chicken doodle soup?" Maya asks hopefully.

"Baby, Mama doesn't have chicken soup. What about something else?" Santana takes the girl off her lap and places her gently on the couch before heading to the kitchen to see what she can offer the girl in place of soup.

Rachel feels somewhat like an interloper at this point. Santana isn't an old friend and it certainly isn't her place to listen in on these little domestic moments. The other woman's private life, she reminds herself, is none of her business nor would it be prudent for their work relationship for her to make it so.

"Are you sure I shouldn't just call back later?" she asks, almost hoping that the other woman will take her up on the offer.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Santana reiterates. Her head tilts when she hears a bit of something – nervousness maybe? – in Rachel's voice. "Everything okay?"

"Of course, why wouldn't it be ..." Rachel's answer trails off. She's surely not going to tell Santana that she is doing her best to keep their interactions professional and not to let personal issues color their working relationship. That would, of course, mean admitting that there are personal issues and Rachel isn't about to do that.

Because there aren't – so, overhearing snippets of the life that Santana has away from the stage isn't a big deal. She nods, trying to convince herself that talking to Santana now is no different from calling Blaine at home.

"But, anyway," she says, trying to get back to business. "Art isn't giving any direction for the interview and I don't really know what the point is. Are we selling your guest appearance? Are we selling the show in general? He's just not giving me anything to work. He just keeps telling me to be my usual charming self. As if I could help doing that ..."

Maya shuffles around on the couch until she's sitting on her knees with her arms hanging over the back rest. Watching her mother stare into the fridge, Maya pouts and whines, "I like soup, Mama."

Santana takes a deep breath. "Maya, there's no soup in the house. Pick something else, baby." Sighing, she tries to focus on the conversation at hand. "Does he usually give you direction? Because if he does and he's not doing it now, then I don't really know what the deal is. Maybe he thinks we can hook an audience on our own."

"He doesn't think we need to have an agenda. He wants our duet to speak for the show and then we can talk about - whatever, I guess." It's clear that Rachel isn't on board with this promotional tactic. She's never been one for implying anything and subtlety wasn't her strong suit – a good, explicit "come see our amazing new co-star" would be her vote.

Maya crawls off the couch and, with the blanket still wrapped mostly around her, joins her mother in the kitchen.

"Okay, I get that, but Holly's going to want to have a list of potential questions,"Santana says knowingly. There's no way Holly's going to let her go on a talk show, her first since the media frenzy, without making sure that everyone is prepared and on the same page. And that means no mention of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, his mistress or the little girl the press is trying to put in the middle. "And anything to do with my personal life is strictly off-limits."

Maya's eyes light up as though she's just had the best idea. She tugs on her mother's hand to get her attention and, pretending to be a little mindful about the fact that her mom is on the phone, the little girl whispers, "We can buy soup at the store."

Santana crouches down in front of her daughter and tilts the phone away from her mouth."Maya, baby, do you remember what I told you about the people outside? It's not a good idea to go out right now, okay?"

"But I like soup ..." the little girl says dejectedly.

Rachel's bottom lip juts out as Maya's tiny voice reaches her ears. "Santana?" she asks. "Do you want me to bring you some soup for Maya?" She's not even done getting the question out before she's rolling her eyes and silently berating herself for making the offer.

It's not like Rachel's a family friend – or any kind of friend at all. She's just someone who used to know Santana and who now works with her. It's a truth that's reinforced when the other woman replies.

"What?" Santana's voice raises in pitch a little, as though she's surprised by the offer. With a little chuckle, she quickly says, "No, it's fine. I couldn't ask you to do that."

Santana stands and lifts Maya to rest her on her hip. "We'll pick something from the fridge, okay? Or, oh, maybe pasta, huh?"

Maya pouts miserably at her mother. "No. Pasta isn't for when you're sick."

"She's sick?" Rachel asks, unable to keep the concern out of her voice.

Santana sighs. "Yeah. She picked up a little bug, and," she pauses, raising her brow and looking at her daughter, "she gets real fussy when she doesn't feel well."

"M'not!" The little girl wiggles in Santana's arms until she's closer to the phone and, with her mouth as close as possible, she repeats, "M'not fussy!"

Rachel laughs softly. "Y'know, I was about to order something from Katz's. I really don't mind getting something for her if you want." She stops talking and inhales slowly, wondering if she should just let it go. It wasn't like Santana hadn't already rejected her offer.

Santana stops to think about it for a second. She knows her daughter isn't going to give up. And, as much as she wants to give her little girl what she wants – soup's not an entirely unreasonable request – she's not very comfortable with asking Rachel to do something.

But, she reminds herself, she didn't ask; Rachel offered. She figures it's a good sign if the other woman is willing to go a little bit out of her way for Santana. Their last meeting was a little tense and it took most of rehearsal for Rachel to warm up to her, again. She figured that, if Rachel is willing to extend an olive branch and make a go of being friendly, then the least she could do is to let her.

Sighing, Santana and holds Maya close to her. "If you're sure you really wouldn't mind… I mean, there's paparazzi waiting downstairs. I normally would just pop out, but-"

"I wouldn't have offered if I minded," the other woman replies. "And I don't know how you expect Maya to get better if she doesn't have Katz's kosher chidken soup. It's better than any medicine you could possibly be giving her."

As if to punctuate Rachel's statement, Maya starts coughing. Her little face is screwed up in discomfort as she cups her hands over her mouth like her mama showed her.

Santana pouts, waiting for her little girl to settle again. She places a little kiss on her forehead and, with her mind made up, she says, "Okay, that – it's really nice of you and, uh - that would really help us, Rachel. Thank you."

"Can I get you anything else? Rachel asks before giggling softly. "Wow, I haven't said that since I pretended to be a waitress one summer."

Santana raises her brow and chuckles. "You were a waitress? You?"

"Oh, no. Nono, no," Rachel says quickly. "I just pretended to be one. The diner manager refused to pay me."

"Huh..?" Santana furrows her brow. "You know what..? Just tell me when you get here, okay..?"

Less than thirty minutes later, Rachel weaves her way around a few men with cameras. She tries to keep her head down and not face any of the cameras head-on. Though there aren't many paparazzi who are concerned with Broadway actresses, she knows that anyone visiting - or thought to be visitng – Santana would immediately be pulled into the buzz. She makes her way through the crown and slips into the apartment building lobby.

"Uhm, hi, I wasn't sure I was going to get through there." she says blowing out a relieved breath and holding her hand up to her heart. She gives the man at the reception desk a genial smile. "I'm Rachel Berry. I believe Santana Lo-no, um, Rutherford? Santana Rutherford is waiting for me."

George looks at Rachel with concern. "Did you walk through that all by yourself? You really should be more careful, Miss. Those guys can get real aggressive sometimes and, if you don't mind my saying, you're just a tiny, little slip of a thing. When they start a stampede, they don't pay attention to anything but what they see in those cameras, y'know? Oh, I could tell you stories … "

Rachel pushes her hair behind her ear and nods politely. Holding up the deli bag, she says, "Unless they want to steal a sick little girl's soup, there's no reason my presence should be stampede-worthy."

"Katz's deli?" George's smile brightens. "Only the best for Miss Maya! Go on up, Mrs. Rutherford told me she was expecting you. Number twelve on the sixth floor."

"Thank you," she pauses just long enough to read his name badge, "George."

The elevator ride is quick and it's not long before Rachel is juggling deli bags in an effort to free a hand to knock on the door. Eventually, after hanging the larger bag from her arm and hugging the smaller one to her chest, she's able to free herself enough to make her presence known. Her hand hangs in the air for a short moment when she sees taped to the door an index card with the words "Our Home" traced over in purple crayon.

Rachel takes it for what it is – a reminder that she's about to walk into Santana's personal life, willingly. She steels herself with a deep breath and raps on the door.

"There's your soup, baby girl." Santana picks Maya up from the couch and rests her on her hip as she walks over to the door and opens it. When she comes face-to-face with Rachel, she gives her a warm smile. "Thanks so much for doing this. I totally owe you." She opens the door wider and steps back to let Rachel past.

"You don't owe me anything," Rachel argues, her eyes settling on the little girl in her friend's arms. "I'm happy to do it."

"Did you make me soup?" Maya asks, clearly impressed.

Santana chuckles playfully as she closes the door and makes her way to the kitchen area. "Rachel doesn't cook, Maya."

The other woman gasps. "I _can_ cook! I just ..." she pauses and sticks out her chin, regally. "I choose not to."

Santana nods. "Uh huh, sure." She takes one of the bags from Rachel and smiles at her. "So, what did you get?"

"Soup, as promised."

Smelling the soup in the bag, Maya inhales deeply, sending her into a little coughing fit.

Rachel winces and starts to reach out to pat her but stops short and gives the girl a sympathetic pout, instead. "Um, and also a sandwich for you. You're not vegetarian, are you? I just kind of ..." she bites her lip before continuing, "… you didn't used to be so, I didn't consider not getting you meat."

Santana shakes her head. "No, I'm not. Are you still a vegan?"

"Mostly." Rachel places the bags on the counter and pulls out a small, rounded container. "Soup," she says, holding it up for Maya to smell.

Santana places the other bag on the counter. "Mostly?"

The other woman nods and continues to unpack the food. "On my own, I am. But if I go out and there aren't any vegan options or if I can't make changes to a dish to make it vegan, then ..." she shrugs. "I'm a diva but - not really."

She shakes her head. "I never thought you were a diva." Santana smiles warmly before turning her attention to Maya. "Soup in a cup, or a bowl?"

"In that." The little girl points to the to-go container. "Like a picnic, Mama!"

Rachel bites the edge of her lip and giggles. "You bring to-go food to picnics, Santana?"

She glances at Rachel and gasps. "I do not! I always cook."

"Not what I heard ..." the other woman teases and points to the little girl.

"Mama," Maya whines and wiggles. "Lemme down, 'kay? I wanna sit on the floor now."

Santana raises her brow. "On the floor? Like a real picnic, huh?" She turns to Rachel. "Would you mind, uh, we don't normally but, you wanna join us on the floor in front of the TV for a picnic?" Pretending to try to entice Rachel, Santana offered, "We have soup, sandwiches and animal cookies."

"Well," the other woman jokes as she winks at the little girl in front of her. "You know I've never been able to turn down animal cookies."

Maya squints at the woman, not sure what to make of her. "I get the elephants. Elephants are my favorite."

Santana tilts her head and gives Maya a warning look. "What did Mama tell you about sharing, honey?"

"Mama," the little girl whines before sniffing miserably. "I _am _sharing. I get the elephants and she can have the rest!"

Rachel stifles a giggle. "You know, I was always partial to the giraffes, so ..." She wrinkles her nose at Maya. "I think it'll be fine."

Poking the little girl's side, Santana says, "You're lucky you're cute, mija." She places her down on the ground. "Why don't you and Rachel take the food over and get a blanket while Mama gets us drinks, okay? A juice box?"

"Yes, please," Maya answers, putting her hand out for Rachel to take. "I know where the blanket is. But you have to get it down."

Rachel takes a few containers in one hand, cradling them to her side, and slips her hand into the little girl's grasp. As Maya leads her away from the kitchen, Rachel looks over her shoulder and says, "And yes, please. For me, too. If you don't mind."

Santana tilts her head to the side and raises her brow at Rachel before chuckling and making her way to the fridge. She opens it and grabs three strawberry and apple juice boxes from it.

"Do you want to see my room?" Maya asks suddenly.

Rachel blinks a few times and then asks, "Maybe after we've eaten?"

"Do you like soup? Or princesses? Or crickets?" Before Rachel can answer even one of the questions, Maya stops in front of a cabinet. Pointing at the cabinet door, she says, "Get the purple one. It's pur-ple _and_ it has stars on it."

Once Rachel has gotten the blanket and has been led, once again by the hand, back to the living room, she looks intently at Maya. "For the record," she says confidently, "I do like soup, I think princesses are fine and, as long as they aren't in my apartment, I don't mind crickets." She nods pretty sure she gave an answer for each question.

Santana walks over to both of them. "I like princesses, too. But not crickets." She chuckles and takes a container from Rachel's arm as it's about to fall.

"Thanks," she says. "And I don't know, they're like musicians of the bug world." Rachel unfolds the blanket and lays it out before kneeling and smoothing some of the larger wrinkles away. "I feel like it gives them a little something over other bugs when determining likeability."

"What about puppies? Do you like puppies?" Maya doesn't wait for the blanket to be fixed before plopping herself right in the middle of it.

Santana closes her eyes and shakes her head before taking a calming breath and looking at Maya. "We're not getting a puppy, mija." She joins her daughter on the blanket and hands her a juice box before placing the other and the container on the blanket as well. "You're not old enough to look after a puppy."

The little girl pouts and she crosses her arms over her chest, making a little bit of juice dribble out of the straw. Then the girl's eyes light up and she asks, "Do you like kitties?"

Rachel laughs loudly and then snaps her mouth closed and tries to put on a serious face.

Santana intends to glare at Rachel, but somhow she ends up chuckling and simply shaking her head. "I don't get how she's this smart. Kid's wise beyond her years."

"Right, it's a mystery where that came from ..." the other woman teases, rolling her eyes. Rachel sits down, curling her legs behind her. "So, this indoor picnic thing? Is it a tradition or something you've had to come up with because of what's going on -" she nods her head toward the door, "- out there?"

Santana's mood immediately changes and she purses her lips together. "I can't get them to leave. And when I do, they just end up coming back. Sometimes it's only quiet down there for a couple of hours – not even long enough for me to get anything done."

"It's so surprising." Rachel breaks a piece of bread off of her roll. "Usually these things blow over. Maybe you get a few stragglers looking for something but, a crowd that size? Usually by now they're onto the next story."

Santana chuckles weakly. "I am the next story." She glances down as she unwraps her sandwich.

Rachel furrows her brows. "What do you mean?"

"Mama?" Maya interrupts, her voice wary. "There's something floating in my soup. I think it's a golf ball."

"I don't think it's a golf ball, sweetie." Santana says with a wink before turning to Rachel and sighing. "I can't tell you, but..." She takes her phone out of her bra, spends a few moments fiddling around with it before passing it to Rachel.

Rachel takes the phone, narrowing her eyes as she reads the gossip article.

"It's a squishy golf ball ..."

" ... it's a matzoh ball, sweetie," Rachel corrects distractedly, her eyes still on the phone. "Try it and," she looks up at Santana with wide eyes, "they broke up?"

Santana shrugs. "Apparently."

Rachel blows out a hard breath and hands the phone back to her friend. "I know you love him and, you know, I don't even know him, but…" She shakes her head. "Maya doesn't get her brains from him."

After putting her phone back into her bra, Santana picks up her sandwich again and, with a careless shrug, says, "Yeah, well, he can do whatever he wants, now."

"I get that but you'd think that doing whatever he wants would be, I don't know, being with the person he ..." Rachel side-eyes Maya, who is poking the matzoh ball with her spoon, and whispers, "you know."

Santana smiles sadly. "I don't think it was about her." She takes a bite of her sandwich.

"Regardless. If you walk away, you walk away. He didn't." Rachel inhales deeply, shaking her head. "He very publicly threw away what he had for something he didn't even intend to keep." She continues shaking her head as her jaw clenches.

Santana doesn't look at Rachel. "Like I said, it wasn't about her."

"Then he shouldn't have been with her."

Santana lifts her head and tilts it as she looks into Rachel's eyes. "You make it sound much simpler than it really is _and _you sound much more worked up about this than I am."

Rachel looks down at her hands. "I'm sorry. You're right." She shakes her head, her eyes on her food. "It's none of my business."

"Mmmm" Maya waves her spoon at her mother. "S'gd!" Her cheek is puffed out, full of matzoh ball as she tries to talk.

"You like it, huh? Rachel told you it'd be good …" Santana's gentle smile doesn't fade even as her glance moves from her daughter to Rachel. "And, it's fine. Just..." She glances at Maya before taking a deep breath.

"We can - probably should, really - talk about something else," Rachel suggests. "You're probably sick of talking about it, anyway."

"It's fine, really. Doesn't even matter anymore." She takes another bite of her sandwich.

"It matters if you're hurt, though," Rachel argues. "And to have it exploited by the media ..."

"Humiliated," Santana admits softly. "Not hurt."

"You didn't do anything wrong, you know," the other woman says. "There's nothing for you to be ashamed about. It's all on him and you're justified for whatever you're feeling ... humiliated, hurt ..."

"Rachel," Santana chuckles under her breath. Some things, it seemed, never changed. Even now when Rachel gets an idea into her head, there's no getting it out. "You're not listening to me." Looking into the other woman's eyes, her voice lowers and her words come out measured. "I'm not hurt – not like anyone might be thinking I am or I should be."

"Oh," Rachel says so softly that it's more breathed out than spoken. Staring at one of the stars on the carpet, she furrows her brows as she tries to understand.

Santana bites her lip. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

Santana chuckles weakly. "You're sorry because my marriage was a joke?"

"Hey." Rachel reaches over and taps her friend's hand. "Your marriage wasn't a joke. Just because he didn't do right by you doesn't mean it wasn't real and you don't really love him."

She purses her lips together and gazes into Rachel's eyes.

Pulling her hand away, Rachel breaks eye contact and clears her throat. She tries her best to make it seem like her full attention is on her sandwich. It's bad enough that she's crossed the line she'd drawn for herself – she's voluntarily participating in something non-business related – but, she reminds herself, no good will come from crossing any other lines. It would serve her best to keep her hands to herself.

Santana takes a deep breath and puts on a smile before looking at Maya. "How's your soup, baby girl?"

"Super yummy. Try!" She pushes her spoon toward Santana.

Rachel sees the spoon moving and puts her hand up. "Or, a fresh one?" She finds a plastic spoon in the take-out bag and holds it out. "So you don't get sick ..."

"As a mother, you kinda get used to germs." She takes Maya's spoon and winks as she tries the soup. "S'good, baby."

She glances at Rachel again. "If I was going to catch what she has, I would have already."

"Right ..." Rachel presses her lips together and looks down at the unused spoon. She puts it down and tries to think of something else to say. It's not often she's rendered speechless but, when it comes to children and family, she really doesn't have the experience

Santana purses her lips and takes a moment to figure out how to break the awkward tension that settled onto their picnic. Her eyes light up and, putting her sandwich down, she taps her daughter's knee. "Maya, are you finished with your soup? Maybe you'd like to show Rachel your room?"

"Will you save my golf ball for me?" the girl asks, pointing to the other small matzoh ball in the container.

Santana nods, smiling softly at her daughter. "You bet. Maybe you can have it for dinner."

"Okay!" Maya stands up and holds her hand out for Rachel. "Wanna see my sparkle wand? It lights up!"

"Well, if it lights up ..." the woman says, getting up and taking the girl's hand. "That's too amazing to pass up."

Santana watches her daughter lead Rachel down the hall. It's not a sight she'd ever expected to see, but she's not going to lie, there's something kind of comforting about it. As she clears the make-shift picnic, putting the food in the kitchen and quickly washing the few dishes they had, she thinks about what she said to Rachel about her marriage – and that fact that she hadn't shared that information with anyone else. Folding the blanket, she tries not to think about what it was that prompted her to do that.

Standing in front of the hall closet, Santana tilts her head when she realizes that she doesn't hear the usual pitter-patter of Maya's feet on the wood floors or the giggles that normally seep out into the hallway from her room. She peeks her head around the door to find out why it's so quiet and the sight that greets her pulls the air from her chest and forces her to lean heavily against the doorframe.

Her little girl is tucked up in bed, the covers pulled up under her chin, and Rachel is sitting cross-legged on the rug reading to her. The other woman's voice is calm – soothing – and there's something about it that reminds Santana of her childhood.

" ... But instead of going into the pen the ink spilled all over and made a big blue puddle on the floor. It was an awful mess." Rachel pauses, about to ask Maya something about the story, and she notices the girl is asleep. She carefully puts the book down before shifting to kneel next to the girl's bed and tucking her covers around her more securely. "Sweet dreams," she whispers as she brushes a few wayward curls out of the girl's face.

When she turns and sees Santana in the doorway, her eyes widen and her hand comes up to rest on her chest. "Oh!" She blinks and then whispers, almost apologetically, "I didn't know you were ... she was sleepy."

Santana blinks a few times, not letting her eyes get too used to the picture in front of her, and gives Rachel a soft smile as she whispers, "It was her nap time anyway."

"She's very proud of her books," Rachel says, getting up and putting the storybook away. After placing it back on the shelf, she heads toward the bedroom door. "She's a really good kid, Santana. You have a lot to be proud of with her."

Santana smiles softly as she looks at her sleeping daughter, whispering. "She's the best thing that's ever happened to me. Including my music…"

"Speaking of ..." Rachel moves past her friend and nods down the hall toward the living room. "Marley asked me to ask you when you're releasing another album."

Santana follows her friend to the living room. "I'm always writing. And I have my own studio room back in LA. But," she pauses and winces, "I don't think I'll be releasing anything for a while."

" ... maybe we'll get to do a special release of your engagement in the show," Rachel suggests. "You'd have to be cooped up in a studio with me and Blaine, but I bet it'd sell really well."

Santana nods. "I'll have a think about it." As soon as she's close enough, she plops herself down on the couch.

" ... okay. " Rachel twists her fingers together as she stands in front of the couch. "So ... " she bites her lip, not quite knowing if she should offer to leave now that the food's been delivered and eaten, or if she is supposed to stay and visit.

Santana takes a deep breath. "Okay, here's the deal. I'm gonna give you the opportunity to ask me whatever you want."

The other woman's eyes widen. "Ask you whatever I want?" She bites her lip and looks around the room cautiously. She's not sure why, but the prospect of this type of conversation makes her stomach twist.

Santana nods. "Yeah. Anything. What I said earlier, about, y'know, me not being hurt. Or whatever. And I'll be a hundred percent up front – honest - with you."

"Why?" Rachel asks warily. "Were you not being honest before?

Santana furrows her brow. "What? No." She shakes her head. "No, I just meant that if you asked me something, I'd be honest. And, if you wanted, I would, I don't know, elaborate, I guess."

"Oh. Elaborate, I see." Rachel gingerly walks to the couch and sits down almost primly with her hands folded in her lap. While Rachel never prided herself on picking up hints very well, and while it took her a long time to figure out the fine art of social cues, she admits to herself that this one is easy. Santana _wants _to talk to her. She doesn't know why Santana was choosing her but she feels like she should just go with it. "You weren't hurt because ... "

"Because I didn't love him." It's almost strange how easy it is for those words to come out now that Santana accepted them.

Rachel blinks owlishly a few times and breathes out a soft, "Oh."

Santana bites her lip and glances down and the floor.

"I'm sure the amount of time you'd spent apart - your tour, his game schedule - I'm sure that didn't help your relationship, either," the other woman says. "It's hard to be away from someone and not have it affect how you think of them."

Santana starts fiddling with her fingers. "Honesty, right?" She takes a deep breath, her gaze shifting from her hands to the woman sitting next to her. "I'm not sure that was the problem."

"Let me guess, his sleeping with other women?" Rachel grimaces. "Because that would be a problem for me, let me tell you."

She shakes her head and lowers her voice. "I don't blame him for sleeping with other women."

Rachel frowns, her brows pushing together and creating little creases in her forehead. "You don't?" Blowing out a frustrated breath, she says, "No offence but if two people are married and one is stepping out, then that person deserves a lot of blame."

"I wasn't really ..." She clenches her jaw, a part of her disbelieving that she's really going to admit this – and to Rachel no less. "He was sleeping with other people, because ..." She looks into Rachel's eyes hoping not to have to finish her sentence. There was a time once, long ago, when she wouldn't have had to – a time when Rachel would have just known what she was trying to say.

"... because you were with someone else, too?"

Santana rolls her eyes and frowns. "Why does everyone think that?" She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back heavily against the couch. "No, I wasn't with someone else. I just wasn't in love with him. I don't - I probably never really was."

"But you married him," Rachel says simply. "You have a child with him." She reaches over and puts her hand on Santana's. "You don't have to pretend not to feel something because you think it's embarrassing, you know. I won't judge you."

"I'm not." She purses her lips together. "Does that make me a bad person? That I'm looking back and finding all the ways I didn't love him – it makes me sound pretty horrible, right?"

"I just told you," the other woman says with a grin. "I'm not judging you."

Santana breathes out slowly and tilts her head back, her eyes on the ceiling. "I should have known, you know? And I shouldn't have let it go on as long as it did."

"Why did you? For Maya?"

She nods. "Yeah, I didn't want her growing up in a broken family. I really tried, you know?"

Rachel nods softly, a soft chuckle escaping her. "You always were so ... " she stops, wrinkling her nose cutely as she thinks of the right words, "... old-fashioned with your ideas about family."

Santana pulls her gaze from the ceiling and looks at Rachel with a serious expression. "My _abuela_ is old-fashioned in her thinking. I just..." She frowns. "... I like to think I've grown since high school, you know?"

Rachel tilts her head at the mention of high school. She thinks about it and tries to consider why Santana would bring it up in a conversation about failed marriages and loveless relationships. She swallows roughly at where her mind takes her and immediately derails the thought before if can firmly take root.

"How is your family? I haven't seen them since," she pauses as she thinks about how long it had been, "since before I left school."

Santana furrows her brow at Rachel's sudden change of topic. "Uhm, they're good. I don't get to see them much, but they try to visit and see Maya as much as they can."

"Maybe if you stay on this coast for a bit, you'll have more opportunities to get together," she says, offering a polite smile.

She chuckles. "Are you trying to get me to stay in New York?"

Rachel's eyes widen, but then she sees her friend's teasing smile. She playfully slaps her hand. "It wouldn't be a _horrible _thing to have you around, I suppose."

"S'cause I'm awesome, I know. And I'm pretty sure Marley would be happy about it." She smiles and bites her lip.

"Oh, god." Rachel shakes her head dramatically. "You're all she's talked about since I told her you're our new Lucy. She's already asked for comp tickets to your opening show."

"You should invite her to a rehearsal. She's a sweet kid."

Rachel smiles affectionately. "She's one of my favorite people in the whole world, actually," she says. "Marley's like us. She breathes music and gets excited by it." As she talks, her eyes light up. "And if you don't know about a band she likes, she will school you in the sweetest, most complete way possible." Rachel sighs. "I could have used a girl like her when I was growing up, actually. She's so ..." her shoulders jump as she says, "normal."

"Nah." Santana grimaces in distaste. "Normal is so over-rated. And, anyway, there's really no such thing as normal, you know that. We're all normal in our own way, right?"

It's only takes a beat – just long enough for Rachel to expel a breath. Her mouth, which was opening to reply, quickly closes and her lips press together into a thin smile. It would do no good to ruin their friendly afternoon by bringing up the past.

So what if Santana didn't think that people were normal in their own ways when Rachel most needed her to? She does now – and now is where they are.


	8. Chapter 8

Rachel beams as Blaine steps out of the curtain call line and, grinning widely, bends low at the waist for the audience who are already on their feet, cheering. When he comes back to the line, she takes his hand and reaches out to take Santana's for the last ensemble bow of the evening.

Their newest costar smiles brightly at Rachel before leaning forward enough to extend her proud smile to Blaine. Santana feels Rachel squeeze her hand and she knows it's her cue. Together, the trio steps forward and graciously bow, again, for their audience. She lifts her head and peeks up at the crowd, as much as she can see past the bright lights washing the stage, and allows herself a moment to take in their cheers and the electricity coming from them.

Even after the cast has filed off stage, the crowd's enthusiastic applause continues.

"One more," Rachel says excitedly, pulling Santana's hand and leading her from the wings onto the stage, again. Once there, she puts her hand on her friend's back and pushes her lightly, forcing her to step forward. It's obvious who the crowd came to see and it's obvious that they weren't disappointed.

Santana isn't prepared for the emotions that overwhelm her in that moment. She's certain that she couldn't possibly smile any wider and yet, it's somehow not nearly enough to convey her happiness. With a few mouthed _thank you_s to the audience, she tries to communicate how humbling their affection is.

Deciding that it's time to share the attention, she turns her head and holds her hands out for her co-stars. Blaine winks in his boyishly charming way, takes her hand and leads her in a bow as she realizes that Rachel isn't standing beside her anymore.

Flowers are, of course, a tradition for opening night. It takes a moment for Santana to realize what's happening when Rachel, grinning widely, rushes onto stage with a large bouquet. She holds them out with one hand and pulls Santana into a hug with the other. "You were fantastic," she says over the cheers. "Congratulations."

Santana cradles the flowers in one arm and holds onto her friend with the other. Her lips hover close to Rachel's ear in the hopes that her surprised "thank you" can be heard over the applause.

The other woman pulls back and, with a smile that promises not to fade, lets go of her friend and claps along with the audience until Blaine ushers them off the stage again.

"Hey, I got you slightly less pretentious but equally pretty flowers." He grabs a small bouquet from the stage manager's desk. "For you," he says regally as he presents them to her with a half-bow.

"Aw, dude." Santana loops her arm over his shoulder to give him a quick one-armed hug. "They're beautiful." As releases Blain and lifts both bouquets to her nose she grimaces. "I didn't realize - I kinda feel bad. I didn't get you guys any flowers."

Rachel shakes her head and teases, "It's not _our_ opening night, silly."

"But you can bring coffee tomorrow since we're staying up late just to catch _your_ reviews," Blaine suggests. "We are, right? It's an opening night thing - " He tilts his head and quirks his brows. "Right?"

"I'm in," Rachel says, nodding. "Though I can already tell you that the words _amazing_, and maybe even _scene-stealer_ will appear often." She winks at Santana to let her know that the thought of sharing the spotlight doesn't bother her in the least.

Santana gives them both a soft look, suddenly feeling every bit part of the family their director was telling her they were. "You don't have to stay up, guys. You," she smirks as she turns her attention to Blaine, "need your beauty sleep, Blainers."

"So does Rach, but we're staying up anyway. It's a perk of being a grown up." He leans in close, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "No bedtime."

Santana laughs lightly before rolling her eyes. "I need to check on Maya, who _does_ have a bedtime. And I should put these lovelies in some water. And –" She pauses for dramatic effect and then waggles her brows, "I think a certain stylist wants to tell you how amazing you were tonight." Santana nudges her head towards the call board where Kurt is pretending to be busy looking at the notices.

"Stylist, huh?" Blaine's eyes quickly move to Kurt and, when the other man glances over, he gives him his best charming smile. At Kurt's sly smile, he steps away, an appreciative "nice" falling from his lips.

"I think you must be confused, Santana. This isn't _Fiddler on the Roof_," Rachel says, her voice teasing. "There's no matchmaker role in _Jekyll and Hyde_."

Santana shrugs and jokes, "I can't help my ways, Rachel." Her gaze locks onto Rachel's and she dips her head as she causally says, "About what Blaine said? You don't need any beauty sleep. You're absolutely stunning."

"And you're full of it," Rachel says, laughing loudly and pushing her friend's shoulder. "You're high from being on stage. And come the morning paper, you're going to be high from the reviews." She purses her lips, raises her chin defiantly and announces, "I'll accept no compliments until you come down."

Santana rolls her eyes playfully and motions Rachel to follow her. "What do you have against compliments? If I remember correctly, you used to be kinda big on them. There was always something nice flying out of your mouth and smacking me upside the head." She teases as heads to her dressing room.

"Ah, so, you were hoping for compliments _and _flowers?" Rachel's smile doesn't falter at the teasing banter that borders on being flirtatious. She should care but she's just come off the stage and it's really hard for her to care about something like the possibility of being disappointed or the fear or heartache when she can still feel the rhythm of the audience's applause pulsing in her veins.

Santana dips her head to smell the flowers, again. "They're beautiful. Really." She smiles warmly as they walk towards her dressing room.

"I'm glad you like them."

"Excuse me, Santana Lopez?" a young man in a courier uniform asks, interrupting the two women as they walk by.

Santana turns to the young man, a smile on her face, and she raises her brows expectantly. "Yeah? Hi."

"Uh, hey. Can I get you to sign for this?" He holds out an express mail envelope attached to his clipboard.

Rachel blinks in confusion. Obviously from his uniform, she knows he's not a fan looking for an autograph. Beside, they usually stake out the stage door. But she's also never known a messenger service to have couriers running at ten o'clock at night. Without prompting, she reaches over and takes the flowers from Santana, freeing her friend's hands so that she can sign.

It's clear from the crease above Santana's nose and the way her lips are pressed into a thin, down-turned line that this isn't an expected communication. She doesn't wait for the courier to walk away, before ripping into the envelope.

At first she's not sure what she's looking at. The packet in her hands looks like a copy of the divorce papers she'd had her lawyer draw up. Only, she expected that it would take a little while for Matt to look at it and give it to his lawyer to review before he signed and returned it. The turnaround on this is much too quick and it makes her fingers tingle with nervous energy.

She quickly flips to the last page, already knowing what she's looking for. Instead of Matt's sloppy signature, she's met with a blank line. Santana's frown deepens as she begins to flip from the back to the front of the document, searching for an explanation.

She finds it when she spots a light blue post-it note affixed below the paragraph detailing the custody terms.

_I'm not forwarding to my lawyer or signing until my name is here. This isn't all on me. You left me long before I left you. _

"Are you okay?" Rachel asks when Santana's mouth opens but the other woman doesn't say anything. "What is it?"

Santana purses her lips together, trying her best to stay calm. She can't help that her eyes tear up or than her jaw clenches tightly. Inhaling deeply, she shakily says, "I have to talk to Holly."

"What's wrong?" her co-stars eyes widen and she gently grasps Santana's arm. "What's going on?"

The other woman pushes the envelope and divorce papers toward Rachel and then crosses her arms over her chest. "He's not signing them."

Taking the papers and awkwardly shifting the flowers so that she can look at the document, Rachel rifles through the pages to find that there is, in fact, no signature on the final page. She flips back to where she saw a post-it note and, as she reads, her lips pull into a deep frown.

Santana quickly snatches the papers out of the other woman's hands and stalks down the hallway to her dressing room. The moment the door handle is within reach, she throws the door open and scans the room. Her manager isn't there yet.

She tosses the envelope and papers on her dressing table and makes her way to the small couch where Maya is curled up under her Hello Kitty blanket, sleeping. Perching herself on the arm of the couch, she runs her fingers through her daughter's hair and tries to keep her head from spinning.

"Where the hell is Holly?"

By the time Rachel catches up to Santana, the other woman, still perched over her sleeping daughter, has gotten her cell phone and is furiously typing out a message.

: _Where are you?! I need you to be here NOW. Now = 2 sec ago. _

Rachel watches the other woman carefully. She's really not sure why she followed Santana. The rest of the cast are loitering in the hallways and celebrating with champagne toasts and crude bastardizations of the show's songs. They probably expect Rachel to make an appearance (if not a small speech) on her way to her dressing room. She always does.

And even though it's Holly who Santana wants to see, Rachel has decided to be available, too – albeit it rather hastily and with very little reasoning to back up the decision.

"Move. C'mon, get out of the way," a voice calls out harshly in the hallway pulling Rachel's attention away from Santana. "I'll show you what 'break a leg' means in other parts of New York City. Move it!"

Rachel takes a step back and peeks around the doorframe to see Holly pushing her way through the ensemble cast. The woman snatches a glass of champagne from one of the understudies as she barrels toward Santana's dressing room.

The first thing Holly notices is that Rachel is hanging around Santana's doorway. Her eyes narrow suspiciously at the woman as she breezes past her.

"Hey!" The word is already hanging in air before Holly steps inside the dressing room. That's when she notices Maya sleeping peacefully under her mother's watchful eye. She repeats in a whisper, "Hey."

Rachel follows Holly into the room, closing the door behind her. Not wanting to overstep the boundaries of their newly rekindled friendship, she decides her attention is best focused on the flowers in her hand and sets about looking for a vase.

"What's wrong? Your text sounded weirdly panicked and overtly ominous."

Santana's eyes remain on Maya as her fingers gently brush through her messy, curly hair. Without moving her attention away from the little girl, she points to the envelope and papers on the dressing table.

Holly skims the packet, a deep frown settling on her face, and then carefully reads Matt's note. "Fucking stupid son of a bitch," she whispers.

Santana looks up at Holly, her eyes shine with tears she's fervently trying to hold back. When she speaks, her voice is a rough whisper. "He's going to fight for her. What if he wins?"

"He's not getting her, Santana," her friend vows, tossing the papers roughly onto the make-up table. "Matt fucked up and everyone knows it. It was all over Twitter, Instagram – anyone with internet access has proof of how badly he's screwed up. No judge is going to take a little girl away from her mother and give her to a guy like him."

Rachel can't help but ask, "A guy like him?"

"A cheater," Holly says definitively. "It shows disrespect for women and disregard for family."

Santana pinches the bridge of her nose and huffs out a frustrated breath. "That's not the point. He's going to play up the 'I never loved him' angle."

"Which he can't prove," Holly states firmly. Her eyes soften as they drift to where Maya is resting. "The way I see it, that little girl right there is all the proof you need that you did."

Rachel nervously and, subconsciously, clears her throat as she busies herself arranging the flowers.

"I do have to ask," Holly begins haltingly, raising her brow and inhaling deeply. "Is there _anything_ _else_ I need to know? You told me about your little fling with Rachel and that's easy to explain away as youthful experimentation. But is there something he can drudge up? _Anything_?"

Rachel clenches her jaw, her lip caught painfully between her teeth, and forces herself to focus on the flowers in front of her. She tries to let go of what Holly said, knowing that, had she been the one explaining her past with Santana, "a little fling" would not be how she would have described it.

Santana considers her options as she watches her little girl sleeping peacefully. It's clear to her that Holly needs to know everything but she just isn't sure how to start. After taking a deep breath, she turns her gaze to Holly, meets her friend's eyes and gently says, "I think you should sit down."

"I don't want to sit down," her friend says cautiously as her body goes into defensive mode: arms crossed, back straight and shoulders squared. "If I sit down, you're going to tell me something I don't want to hear. I'll stand, thank you very much."

Santana frowns, sighing at her friend. "Holls, c'mon. It's not like that."

Holly raises her eyebrows in warning and points at Santana as she sits gingerly in the vanity chair. "It better not be like that."

After a few false starts, the other woman inhales deeply before offering, "I maybe wasn't really, y'know, in love with Matt. Ever. Really. I guess." After a beat, she admits, "I wasn't."

She shakes her head as she tries to explain, the words running quickly out of her mouth. "I wanted to be. I should have been. We were the perfect couple - cheerleader, basketball star." She pauses and presses her lips together as she squints up at Holly. "He was my best friend, and I really did love him."

"... and _somehow_ he _knew_ you weren't in love with him so he thinks it's okay to screw other women?" Holly asks impatiently. "That's not how it works, San."

Santana doesn't know how to say what she needs to say. It's easier for her to just let her shoulders express her inability to communicate what's sitting on the tip of her tongue. It doesn't help, of course, that Rachel is there, her focus seemingly on carefully placing more flowers than can actually fit into her small, blown glass vase. She may not know the other woman as well as she used to, but she's sure her attention is only half on the flowers.

Clearing her throat, she tries again. "Maybe not, but - that's how it was. I thought, y'know, I thought marrying him was the right thing to do, you know? I thought, in time, I'd fall in love with him."

Rachel pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and pretends that the flowers need extra arranging. She places and re-places each flower, tugs lightly on some of the stemmed leaves and even pokes the petals as though fluffing them.

Holly sighs as she throws her hands into the air and lets them fall with a dull smack onto her thighs. "Okay, fine," she finally says. "You didn't love him. That's not a crime or a sin."

Santana swallows roughly, recognizing a window of opportunity when it's opened. "No, but being gay is – to some people." Her eyes are drawn to the floor not only because she can't seem to look into her friend's eyes, but also because she's pretty sure from the feeling in her stomach that the ground just opened up and she's in a free fall.

The vase Rachel had just started to lift from the vanity slips, its base making a dull thud as it falls back into place. Her fingers fumble, causing the flowers to shake against each other and a little bit of water to splash onto the vanity as she clumsily tries to make sure it doesn't topple over.

Holly spins around, venom in her eyes as glares at her through the mirror. "What? You think being gay is a sin, Tinkerbell?"

"Me? No - I -" the woman sputters, her eyes large and round under Holly's scrutiny.

Santana's eyes widen and she gives Holly a warning look. "Holly, don't."

Her friend turns more fully in an effort to really look at Rachel. "No, I'd like to hear her answer."

Rachel huffs and spins around, crossing her arms over her chest. "I was raised by two men. So, no - I don't think it's a _sin_." She returns the other woman's hard glare. "And why you think I would when you know about our," she pauses and then grimaces in distaste as she says, "_little fling _is beyond me."

Santana sighs and stands up, whispering harshly. "Stop it – both of you. I just said something _out loud_ that I've never had the courage to say before. I've been struggling, fighting against this for years and you're - what are you doing? You're making it about you two?"

"_I_ didn't make it about anything. In case you didn't notice, I was being attacked" Rachel whispers harshly. She clenches her jaw before taking a deep breath. "I shouldn't even be here -" Rachel is a nervous ball of fluster as she backs toward the door. "I should go."

"What? No! Don't go ..." Santana looks pleadingly at her friend. "Please."

Holly narrows her eyes as though studying her friend.

"Look," Rachel begins, trying to be calm and level-headed. Admittedly, it's not something she's known for being able to pull off. She takes a step closer and touches Santana's arm. "It's been a crazy night for you already. I think you need to talk to your manager more than you need a cast party" Squeezing Santana's arm, she offers, "Do you want me to email you the review highlights?"

Santana takes a deep breath as she gazes into Rachel's eyes. "Only if you feel like staying up." She gives her a weak smile.

Holly's eyes move as though she's watching a tennis match. All the while, her mouth is thinning as she presses her lips together.

"Yeah." Rachel musters up shy smile in return. "I probably won't be able to sleep." She blinks a few times before giving her friend's arm a last little squeeze and then letting go of it. "Call me in the morning?"

"Yeah, I will. Definitely."

Holly sighs loudly and rolls her eyes. "And you can leave now," she finally says as she makes shooing motions with her hand. "Unless you're going to say goodbye a few more times ..."

Rachel swallows roughly, her eyes finding the floor. Without a word to Holly, she starts to leave. She's out of the door and about to close it when she says, "And you really were fantastic tonight, Santana. Don't let anything else ruin that, okay?"

"Thanks, Rach." She watches her friend leave before turning to her manager and narrowing her eyes at her. "I get that you're upset, but you didn't have to take it out on Rachel."

"Rachel?" Holly asks, pointing to the door. She struggles to keep her voice low. "You mean the Rachel you had a _fling_ with in high school? The one you had a _lesbian_ fling with who just _happens_ to have come back into your life? And what else is new in your life, let me think. Oh! Now you're saying you're _gay_!" She shakes her head and points at Santana. "Oh, I think it's more than okay to take it out on her."

"What're you trying to say?" Santana purses her lips together, her eyes wide with disbelief as she looks into Holly's.

"I'm just going to ask you," the other woman says. "I'm not even going to beat around the semi-pun of a bush." She gets to her feet, crosses her arms over her chest and straightens her back. "Are you dating her?"

Santana's mouth falls open and she scoffs. "I can't believe you'd even think - "

"What? That you'd date Rachel without telling me? That you'd date _anyone_ without telling me? Why not?" The chuckle Holly pushes out is harsh and, for a moment, she thinks it's almost enough to wake up Santana's daughter.

When the little girl doesn't react, Holly closes her eyes and forces herself to breathe before continuing.

"Just a few weeks ago, you told me that what you had with her was," she shrugs, "some experiment. Something that was nothing. And now you're telling me that Matt has something to hold over you and that you're _gay_. What am I supposed to think? Does that sound like I have a reason to think you trust me?"

"You think I don't trust you? God, that isn't it at _all_." Santana swallows roughly as her mind tries to come up with the right words to explain. Had she prepared, maybe she could have come up with something that would rationalize how she's handled this. But this? This wasn't how she'd planned to have this discussion. She'd actively planned, instead, to _never_ have this discussion.

"Of course I trust you. You're, like, one of the only people in the world I _do_ trust. But you have to understand that -" Santana looks away, her eyes dropping to the floor. She's not sure if she's embarrassed or ashamed at this point. "I just - I wasn't ready to admit it. Not to anybody and not to myself."

The other woman steps up to her friend and dips her head, forcing the other woman to meet her eyes. "Have I ever judged you?" she asks, her eyes much more serious than Santana has ever seen.

Santana's eyes widen at the intensity in Holly's. "That isn't what this is about, I promise. It – I promise, this isn't about you. _I_ wasn't ready to say it out loud. I thought, it's stupid, okay? But if I said it out loud then it'd be real, you know? If I told someone, that would be it out there and when something's out there, there's no taking it back." She lowers her voice. "I wasn't ready for that."

"But now you are," Holly asks slowly. "Because your timing ..."

She sighs. "I know. I know, you think I'm telling you this because of Rachel." She looks confidently into Holly's eyes. "I'm not with her. I promise. I would tell you if I was."

Holly searches her friend's eyes for the truth. Once she accepts her words are genuine, she pulls Santana into a firm hug. "You know I love you, right?" Holly asks.

Santana allows the other woman to hold her tightly before bringing her own arms to circle around her friend. "I know."

"Good, because I'll break your arms off if you ever keep anything from me again," the other woman replies, the warmth in her voice softening the message. She pulls out of the embrace and holds Santana at arm's length. Her voice suddenly grows serious when she asks, "So, what does Matt have that he can give to the press? Any evidence of lesbionic behavior?"

Santana shrugs and bites her bottom lip. "Who knows? I mean, I never cheated on him or anything. But …" Her shoulders rise and she blows out a breath.

"But, you called him a girl's name during sex?"

Santana gasps and smacks her manager's arm gently. "Very funny."

"Assault." Holly points her finger at her friend. "Careful, I know the press."

Santana chuckles and rolls her eyes playfully. "Just - I'm just saying, I've lived with him. I don't think he has any proof or anything, but, I guess, you can never be too sure."

"Okay, things he might have on you ..." Holly holds up her hand and, before she starts ticking off her list on her fingers, she says, "stop me when I hit something ..."

She starts counting on her fingers, "lady-on-lady porn, subscription to _Curve_, _Girlfriends_ or _Popular Mechanics_ …" Holly grins and waggles her brows at Santana.

Santana frowns and narrows her eyes at her friend. "Are you going to continue making fun of me?"

"I'm not making fun, Santana," her friend says calmly. "If anything, I'm just showing you that nothing's changed. Unless you want me to start treating you differently."

Holly purses her lips and looks at Santana expectantly. "Nothing _has_ changed, right? You don't want to, like, rip my clothes off or anything ... right?"

Rolling her eyes, Santana lets out a frustrated breath before saying, "Nothing has changed."

"I'm a little disappointed, to be honest." Holly heaves a sigh and runs her hands over her sides. "I've got a rockin' bod, Santana. I mean, really. You're missin' out."

She winks and then says, "Seriously, though. What are you afraid Matt's going to say? If there's nothing material for him to go to the press with, then it's all just gossip. And, on the heels of what he's done? No one's going to believe a word out of his lying, cheating, bad boy mouth."

Santana shrugs, her lips dipping into a frown. "I just don't want to give him anything. No advantage at all, okay? I can't lose Maya."

"You won't." Holly takes both of Santana's hands in her and looks into her eyes. "I won't let him. Trust me, okay?"

Santana knows it's ridiculous the moment it's out of her mouth but she can't help it when she asks, "Promise?"

Holly simply lifts a finger to her chest and crosses her heart.


End file.
